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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 months

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Change of Plans

A/N: Although I am SEVERAL days late at this point, this is a gift for @something-tofightfor - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RACHAEL! I hope your day was all that you wanted it to be, and that this year is the best fucking one yet. I so badly wanted this to be done in time, but you know me. Anywho, I love your guts and I hope you enjoy this chaotic little cake I whipped up with the help of one of your favorite cowboys.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: listen, don't do what Reader does here. Other than that... just some language. It's very tame. But don't do it.

Summary: Jack is there on business. You're there for pleasure.

He noticed you right away.

Sitting in the waiting area near gate A-7, right leg crossed over your left and an open book in one hand, you caught his eye -

Well hello, gorgeous.

- and he had to repeatedly free his focus from your direction, reminding himself why he was at the airport in the first place.

Damn it, Agent, you’ve got a job to do.

You turned the page of the book you were reading, letting out a sigh and stretching your neck, and Jack adjusted his position on the barstool he occupied so that he was forced to change his line of sight. He cleared his throat, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sip. The bold, smoky flavor of the deep amber whiskey coated his tongue, and by the time he swallowed he was back on his task.

He’d been sent to locate and detain a known associate of a crime boss that Statesman was attempting to bring down. Intel gathered from Agents assigned to the case suggested that the associate - a mid level player who occasionally dealt in black market weapons - would be traveling through Louisville on his way to meet with the mysterious and nefarious man they knew only as The Gatekeeper. The current theory was that The Gatekeeper was operating out of San Francisco - or more specifically, out of a secret underwater lair that was built into one of the foundational structures of the Golden Gate Bridge, hence his nickname. But Statesman had been unable to confirm that yet. Catching up with the Gatekeeper’s gun runner was their best bet when it came to pinning down his location for sure, and since he had the most experience with facial recognition and planting trackers, the assignment had gone to Agent Whiskey.

So let’s find this shit kicker and get on with it so I can get on with… He resisted the urge to turn back in your direction.

Setting his glass down on the cork coaster it was served to him on, he brought his newly emptied hand up to tap the arm of his gold wire glasses. At the touch of his fingertip, the stealth lens screens activated, and he used them to scan the faces of the people moving through the terminal. So far none had hit as a match for the Gatekeeper’s associate, but since the man was clever enough to book himself tickets on multiple flights that day to make it harder for anyone who might be looking to follow him, Jack had to keep checking until he either found his target or the last of those flights had taken off.

I’ll find him. Soon as he shows up I’ll-

But Jack didn’t even need to finish the thought, because his lenses detected the person he’d been waiting for before he could. Just as he was about to get up from his seat and position himself to intercept his target, though, he saw something else flash across his lenses.

Mission directive has changed. Do not detain. Intel from Kingsman suggests associate may also be working with Golden Circle remnants in Canada. New directive is only to place the tracker and not to pursue until we know for sure who he is meeting. Agents in Vancouver and San Francisco have been put on alert and will be activated as needed.

Jack blinked twice to acknowledge Ginger’s message, then used the movement of his eyes to send a question in response.

Received. Return to HQ?

He had his jet on standby there at the airport in the event that he needed to abscond with The Gatekeeper’s man, and he assumed that since that was no longer necessary, Champ and Ginger would want him to come back and await further information. Keeping one eye on his target, he used the other to read the new message that flashed across his lens, finding it to be a surprise.

Negative. Don’t want to risk the chance of counter tracking. Take the Pony somewhere for a few days first. Vegas or Denver are preferable but Mexico City is also available.

Well, shoot. Looks like I’m takin’ a vacation. My favorite kind of mission.

Ginger had listed cities where Statesman owned properties that were reserved for off duty use - for when Agents had to lay low for a while, or for when they needed a safe place to recover from injuries sustained in the line of duty. There were several more located around the world, but judging by the selection that was presented to him, they wanted him to stay close enough to either have him back in Kentucky in a matter of hours, or send him to California or British Columbia in a pinch when the intel on who the associate was meeting with came back.

Received. Target inbound. Contact when directive complete.

With that, he lifted his finger up to tap the arm of his glasses once more, the screens deactivating so that he could remove them, folding them for safe storage in the inner pocket of his jacket. In a turn of luck, his mark headed straight for the bar he was seated at and sat down two stools over. He showed no signs of having made Jack for a secret operative, not even bothering to look in his direction as he ordered a drink from the bartender.

Perfect.

Jack’s grin was imperceptible as he used his thumb and pointer finger to pull one of the small “buttons” from the cuff of his jacket sleeve. Flattening it with a tight pinch, he dropped the bio-tracker into his own beverage and watched as it dissolved into the liquid. It finished just as the bartender placed a rocks glass of whiskey on a coaster in front of Jack’s target. He waited for the other man to take a sip, and then he closed the distance, scooting over one stool so that he was right next to him, and then he greeted the man with a jovial tone.

“Did my ears deceive me just now, or did I hear you order the Statesman 12 year, my friend?” Jack pointed to the other man’s glass while holding his own.

The other man turned to face Jack, a semi-scowl on his face, his annoyance over being addressed by a seemingly drunken stranger as a “friend” clearly written in gray-green eyes. “What?” He glanced down at Jack’s glass and then at his own. “Oh.” He grunted and gave Jack a nod before taking another sip of his drink. “Yeah. You drinking the same, I take it?” He arched one eyebrow and turned back to face the television screen behind the bar without waiting for the answer to the question he’d just asked.

“Smoothest bourbon there is.” Jack held up his glass, inspecting the contents. To anyone else’s eye - even the man beside him - it would appear as though he were simply appreciating the way the overhead lights streaked through the rich amber liquid. In truth, he was making sure that the button-turned-tracker had been completely infused into the drink. Seeing that it was, he glanced over and caught his mark with his own glass midway to his lips once more.

Slow down there, son, leave some for our toast.

Reaching for the man’s elbow, he stopped him from draining the last of his beverage. “How about we both raise our glasses to good taste and safe travels?”

The other man jerked his arm away as though he’d been burned, the motion accompanied by a deeply frustrated sigh. Checking his watch, he rolled his eyes and shook his head at Jack. “Sure Fine. Just make it quick, I have a flight to catch.”

As he presented his glass for the toast, Jack aggressively clinked the rim of his against it - with just enough force so that some of his drink had sloshed into the other man’s glass without him noticing. “Quick it is. Safe travels.”

“Uh huh.” The sketch of a scowl was back as the man nodded again, knocking back the remainder of his drink, including the tracker. “Same to you.” With that, he slapped a fifty on the bar and left his empty glass, on his way to whatever gate would take him to whatever scumbag was waiting for him.

The Gatekeeper or the Golden Circle… or whoever the fuck else. We’ll know soon enough.

Taking his glasses back out of his pocket, Jack unfolded them and put them back on his face. With a tap of his finger the one-way screens hidden in the lenses activated again, and through a series of blinks and subtle eye movements, he sent confirmation of his mission back to Ginger Ale.

Tracker planted. Target in motion.

Before he got a response, though, he was distracted by a voice coming from over his shoulder. “Excuse me? Is anyone sitting there?”

He turned towards the speaker and his eyes widened, lips lifting into a slight grin when he saw that it was you.

Hot damn, she’s even prettier up close.

His grin grew at your sudden, small intake of breath when your eyes met. “All yours.” Using one hand, he pulled the stool out for you as Ginger’s message started to scroll across his field of vision.

You muttered a thank you as you chewed your lower lip. “You didn’t have to-”

Well done Agent Whiskey. The tracker is live and we are following its movement. Which location did you select?

“Now darlin’, what kind of gentleman would I be if I only did what I had to do?” He smiled, covertly answering Ginger’s question.

Not sure yet. Stay tuned.

You let out a sound that was almost a laugh, shrugging. “You’d be like most gentlemen I’ve known, I guess.”

Agent, we need to know-

Jack brought his hand up and tapped the side of his glasses, closing the communication screen and letting Ginger’s message go unfinished. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and it wouldn’t be the last. He always eventually got back to her and never made her wait too long. But his focus had been drawn to you all afternoon, and now that you were sitting directly beside him, he wasn’t going to rush the interaction he’d been putting off for hours.

“Then allow me to introduce to you a different kind.” He reached up and swept his hat from his head, laying it on the bartop, and extended his free hand to you. “Jack Daniels.”

– – –

15 Minutes Earlier…

You checked your watch with a sigh, noting that you still had a little under an hour before you’d be called for boarding.

It’s fine. That means I can start another chapter now. You rolled your eyes. I’ll need a new book for the flight home at this rate, though.

It was one of those flights that didn’t make sense - with a 4 hour layover in a city that was completely out of the way of your destination. But that was why you’d been able to find tickets for only $48 each way, less than three days out. Things at work had been hectic, and you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to get the time off until the very last minute. So even though it certainly wouldn’t have been your first choice if you’d been able to book it months ago when the trip was first brought up, you were perfectly content to take the unnecessary stopover in Louisville on your way to Las Vegas.

Doesn’t hurt when the people watching prospects are this interesting, either.

You glanced over at the nearby bar and the astoundingly attractive man seated there who’d snagged your attention as soon as he arrived. He, like a handful of others in the terminal, wore a dark felted Stetson But unlike most, it suited him. As did his perfectly tailored suit and-

Oh, fuck, he’s wearing glasses now. And they look damn good on him, too.

You cleared your throat and forced your thoughts back to your trip and your reason for taking the less than desirable layover. Even though it meant spending hours alone in an airport, you were excited, because it also meant being able to see several of your friends who lived far away, and being able to celebrate your birthday with them. Well, not just your birthday. The trip was meant to be a group celebration to make up for the fact that you hadn’t all been able to get together for a birthday in years. Since there happened to be two of you who had birthdays in January, that was the month that was chosen. But the dates that were settled on had included your actual birthday smack dab in the middle of them, and you were looking forward to having something fun to do with people you missed.

Which was why you groaned as you read the notification that popped up on your phone regarding the flight status.

Delayed - Mechanical Issues

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath, closing the airline app and tapping your phone screen to open the group chat so you could fill the others in on your situation. Before you finished typing though, your phone vibrated in your hand and a picture popped up of two of your friends - Jess and Maddy - both wearing ear to ear smiles at Harry Reid International, the text from Jess simply reading two words followed by several exclamation marks: We’re here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kayla chimed in next, responding with an emphatic YAY! and sending a screenshot of her GPS, showing that she was just under 2 hours out. Be there so soon!

Nat still had her phone on airplane mode since she’d only taken off from LAX about an hour earlier, so you didn’t bother waiting for an update from her before you finished typing your own.

Bad news, my flight out of Louisville is delayed. :( Mechanical issues… No idea when I’ll be there now, but I’ll keep you all posted.

You sent the message and tucked your phone into the outer pocket of your bag as disappointment set in. As it was, the rest of your friends were already supposed to arrive half a day before you. But now, it was looking like you were going to miss out on the entire first day of the trip.

Or more.

Frowning at the thought, you tried not to let yourself get too upset until you had a better idea of your situation. You told yourself that it could be something quick and easy to remedy - maybe you’d only have to wait one more hour. Maybe less. Either way, you decided that since half of the group was already there, it meant that the vacation had unofficially started, and it was time you treated yourself to a drink.

And if I know Jess and Maddy, they’re doing the same right now.

You picked up your bag, slinging the strap over your shoulder, and headed towards the bar. It was moderately crowded, only a few stools left vacant scattered here and between other travelers. But as you got closer you noticed that the man you’d caught yourself spending more time watching than any of the others was still seated there - and that the seat beside him had just become empty.

Perfect timing.

That confidence lasted only until the man spun at the sound of your voice, and seeing him up close had nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

Oh, shit. He’s-

By the time he’d given you his name along with his hand to shake, you’d noticed things about him that you hadn’t from across the room. Like the flecks of tan and gold that lightened his dark brown eyes, the distinct bow of his upper lip beneath his mustache and how it rested against the plush pillow of the lower one, the way you couldn’t see a stitch of leather on him aside from his boots, but the smell of it - along with bergamot - clung to him and made him even more appealing.

You swallowed, his warm hand wrapping around yours and squeezing as you managed to tell him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”

Without letting go of your hand or releasing your eyes from the lock his own had on them, he repeated your name back to you, the sound of it making your face grow warm. “Pleasure’s all mine, I promise you.”

When he winked as he withdrew his hand, you knew you were screwed. You ordered yourself a drink - something local, a bourbon you’d not seen before called Statesman - and Jack, though approving of your choice, simply asked for a glass of water. As you brought the glass to your lips, another thought popped into your head.

But am I really screwed, though? Because… he seems just as interested as I am.

Over the next half hour, you and Jack made small talk and subtly flirted in smirks and glances. You asked him what brought him to the airport that day, to which he’d answered:

“Had some business here earlier. But that’s done, so the rest of my evening is completely free.”

You shook your head at that, taking another sip of your drink. Damn that’s good. “Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

At that, he grinned and spread his large hands wide. “Ah, well, that is one of the perks of being my own pilot.” He raised one eyebrow and leaned towards you. “I can leave whenever I choose.”

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. That definitely makes him even more attractive somehow, though.

You mouthed the word wow and let out a stunted laugh as you reached into your bag to retrieve your phone. Some time had passed and you were hoping that there would be another notification about the status of your delayed flight. “That must be nice.” You groaned as you saw that there was nothing new from the airline, and several texts from your friends expressing their dismay over your travel woes. Shaking the phone in your hand, you sighed. “I’m here on a layover that got delayed and the rest of my friends are already in Vegas.” Looking over at him, you wet your lips with your tongue. “I’d love to be able to just… hop in and take off whenever I wanted to.”

– – –

Well, shit. Did she just say Vegas?

Clearing his throat, Jack reached up to tap the arm of his glasses. Several missed messages came through at once, all from Ginger, but he blinked them away as he spoke. “Well, I know we’ve only just met, and I’m not trying to make any suggestions-” Though I could. “- But I happen to be going to Sin City myself tonight.” He had to contain his grin at the flash in your eyes as he used the nickname for the gambling town. “I’d be more than happy to take you with me.”

Destination selected. Las Vegas, Nevada, USA.

You sucked in a breath at his proposition, and though he knew you were likely considering saying no, he hoped you’d say yes. “I… Jack, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“You’re not. I’m askin’. I’ll show you my license and everything to prove that I’m legit, but darlin’, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.” He tilted his head towards the window. “No tellin’ how long they’ll need to fix that bird, and if your friends are already there…” He trailed off and shrugged, returning his gaze to you. “My jet is fully fueled and ready to go. I could get you there so you don’t have to miss out too much. More than you already have, I mean.”

He could practically hear Ginger’s reply when it came through, but he fought the urge to let out a snort as he read it.

IT’S ABOUT TIME, AGENT. Make sure your friend buckles up. We’ll contact you when you can return to HQ.

You bit your lower lip again, and he couldn’t help but watch the way your teeth dug into your flesh. “I…” He saw the rest of your protest dissolve the same way the tracker had earlier, your eyes shifting from skeptical to excited until that’s all he saw in them. You laughed, then, lifting your hand and holding up one finger. “Alright. I’ll… yes. I’ll take you up on it. But on one condition.”

Received. Will await contact. Over.

Jack reached up to tap his glasses before removing them and stowing them in his pocket. He leaned in closer to you, concentrating on the quirk of your lips and the mixture of impulse and instinct in your eyes. “Let’s hear it.”

“You let me buy you a drink once we get there.” You said it over the rim of your glass as you finished the last of it, eyes on him as you swallowed.

An excuse to go out with a beautiful woman? That’s the condition?

Jack flashed you a smile. “I think those terms are more than agreeable, ma’am.”

– – –

What the fuck am I doing?

You half laughed at yourself, but at the same time there was something about Jack that made you feel like you could trust him. You were aware that that could be a danger in and of itself, but your gut told you he was a good man, and you had always felt that you were a good and accurate judge of character.

How’s it any different from meeting a guy and getting in his car with him? It’s not, really.

It was, and you knew it was, but you hadn’t been wrong yet. And as much as you wanted to get to Vegas to see your friends, you also found yourself wanting more time to get to know Jack. He was offering you the chance to do both of those things, and even though you were looking for one, you couldn’t find a downside.

Pulling out your phone, you opened the group chat and sent one text before switching it to airplane mode.

Change of plans. Met a (really good looking) pilot who was on his way to Vegas and offered me a ride. Sending a screenshot of his license number in case I go missing hahaha. Just kidding. I’ll be fine. See you soon!

You knew what they’d say when they saw your message.

Jess would likely just send a thumbs up - or possibly a photo of herself giving a thumbs up.

Maddy would emphasize your message and respond with something like Okay but don’t die!

Kayla’s message would be a more whimsical reaction like Jesus take the wheel! (Wait do planes have wheels?) or Life is short, take rides from hot pilots when you can with the peace sign emoji.

And Nat would send advice from several documentaries and podcasts she’d seen or listened to, about what to do if you were being abducted.

You laughed to yourself again at the entire situation.

“Alright, Jack.” You hopped down from your stool and picked up your bag. “I’m ready when you are.”

He stood, taking his hat from the bartop and placing it on his head. “No time like the present.” Running his hands over his clothes, he smoothed out his suit jacket. “Follow me, darlin’. And give me that.” He pointed his chin towards your bag. “I’m a gentleman, remember? Where would my manners be if I let a lady carry her own bags?”

You shook your head with a smile and handed over your carry-on, leaving you with only your purse. “I don’t know. You’re teaching me about gentlemen, remember?”

You knew when you saw his eyes darken that you’d made the right call.

“Oh, sugar. I remember. Few hours to Vegas. Plenty of time for me to teach you things.” With that he started walking and you were left to follow, slightly stunned at the implications in his tone and in his words.

This is definitely going to be a trip to remember, that’s for sure.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know by sending a message or filling out the form on my masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @dihra-vesa @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @novemberrain221 @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @Noisynightmarepoetry

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY RACHAEL!#pretend this was on time #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x female reader #jack daniels x female reader #pedrostories #jack whiskey daniels fic #kingsman the golden circle #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x female reader #pedro pascal character #agent whiskey fic #jack daniels fic #it's cowboy times

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 18 days

Text

Haunted: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: This is Hotch's first case back since being stabbed by Foyet. As much as he says he's fine, he's not and he's letting his emotions affect the case in a negative way.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not to be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place." - Emily Dickinson

Spencer isn't used to not being able to do things on his own so helping him get ready for work is a challenge.

"Will you stay still?" you say and grab his pants.

"I can do it. Give it to me."

"Spencer Walter Reid. Stop moving and let me help you."

He freezes at the mention of his middle name. No one knows it but you, apparently.

"How did you...?"

"I've seen your driver's license. Now sit down and give me your leg."

Spencer sits on the edge of the bed and stretches his bad leg out to you so you can pull his pants on. It's been a month of recovering from both Hotch and Spencer. This is going to be his first day back since getting out of the hospital, and you're not sure how this is gonna go. It could either go horribly wrong and he'll need to take more time off or he'll be back on his feet. Emily wanted to pick Hotch up and drive him to the airport even though he'd been cleared to drive on his own.

With no unit chief in the office, you have a few minutes to yourself so you and Spencer head to Penelope's office to hang with her until Hotch comes in. Spencer hobbles into her office and she pulls up a chair for him.

"Thank you."

"Does it hurt?"

"It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time."

You place your hands on his shoulders from behind and massage his muscles gently.

"Don't worry, I've been very good at distracting him." Penelope laughs as Spencer looks at you with a smile on his face. You lean down and kiss him Spiderman-style. It's becoming one of your favorite positions to kiss him. When you pull away, you rake your fingers through his hair. "When are you gonna let me braid your hair?"

"Never," he says playfully and pushes you off him. Penelope has a box of cookies on the table, and he reaches to grab one but she slaps his hand away and slaps the lid on it. "Hey!"

"These are for Hotch," she says and puts a bucket of lollipops on top of them.

"I get shot in the leg and I don't get any cookies? You know he's gonna hate the attention," Spencer says and grabs a lollipop.

"It's cookies, not cake."

"He's probably gonna pretend like nothing happened," you state.

"Well, it doesn't mean we have to."

"I think maybe we should."

"I don't roll that way."

"I've been thinking about the entire time I've known Hotch, I don't think I've ever seen him blink," Spencer says.

"I know. It's weird."

"It's classic alpha male behavior."

"Do you think he stared down Foyet?" Penelope asks fearfully.

"Yes. I saw it. He didn't go down without a fight, that's for sure."

"Do you think he stared the whole time, like with each stab?"

"Yes."

"Is he okay?"

"I wouldn't be, but I'm a blinker," Spencer says, and you kiss the top of his head.

The door opens and JJ walks in with files in her hands.

"Spence, Y/N, there you two are. Grab your go bag."

"What's going on?"

"Turn on the news."

Penelope turns on one of the news channels that's talking about the most recent crime your team is going to investigate.

"Just after eight this morning, forty-year-old Darrin Call, a lifelong resident of Louisville, assaulted customers at the pharmacy on the corner of Main and Truxton Avenue. Eyewitnesses saw him walking east on Main Street minutes after the attack. He has not been seen since then. He was wearing a blue shirt, jeans, and a light-gray jacket. Within the hour, the Governor has called in all sources for a manhunt. Despite these statewide efforts, the suspect has eluded law enforcement. The body count is rising. Three are confirmed dead including an armed bank guard whose gun was used in the attack. Another two remain in critical condition. The assailant is still out there. We are going back to Eric Jennings who's been talking to residents of Louisville residents."

"We're going to Louisville."

"Alright. Bye, Pen."

You get up and escort Spencer out of her office over to his desk. You grab both yours and his bag since he can't carry his own and use his crutches, and you two head out with the team to the airplane. Spencer takes the couch to rest his leg while you take one of the chairs surrounding the small table.

"Our point person in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell," JJ says.

Just then, Hotch and Emily walk onto the plane, and you immediately feel anger coming off Hotch in waves. He has a stoic look on his face like always but the anger is stewing deep down inside him. It's a calm anger and it's all for Foyet.

"Good morning," Hotch greets.

"You look well, sir," Penelope says over video chat.

"Thank you. How long do you have that?" Hotch asks Spencer about his crutches.

"I'm not really sure. Welcome back."

"Thanks. Any other attacks?"

"No, not yet. Call's proven hard to track. He's never had a driver's license, so he's most likely still on foot or public transportation."

"No, he's not gonna take the bus. His face is everywhere," you shake your head.

"Has anyone found a stressor?"

"He just lost his job," Penelope explains. "He's worked at a factory since 1990 making appliances and not a single promotion."

"That's a long time to be bitter."

"Yeah, he's of the hermit variety. As far as I can tell, he's got no one. No wife, no kids, and no parents."

"Nothing to live for. Why hasn't he killed himself yet? Sprees usually end in suicide. If he's got nothing to live for, why hasn't he ended it?"

"He's not finished yet," Spencer answers Hotch. "We know he has displaced anger. He took it out on the first victim."

"The stock boy represents someone. We need to know who. Is he military?"

"No."

"He's lashing out for a reason. This guy's got anger, endless targets, and a gun. He's just getting started."

When the plane lands, you go off with Derek and Hotch to the crime scene at the pharmacy while Spencer and JJ head to the police station to get set up. Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell is waiting for them as soon as they walk in, and he's eager to get started. Before your team landed in Louisville, he created checkpoints on the state's lines at both the I-64 and I-65 and within a twenty-mile radius downtown. They think he's still on foot.

Take into consideration the average walking speed of two and a half miles per hour, and it's been just under three hours, then that adds up to an approximate eight-mile radius. First responders started a hard-target search of businesses and residences within that eight miles, and you're going to join them.

The lieutenant dug up all he could on Darrin Call but didn't find much. Me and Rossi are at his apartment so they might be able to find something the police couldn't. The strategy in all of this is to determine where he's headed next in order to stop him. Most spree killers are outwardly aggressive, and Darrin isn't that. He's defensive even if the video doesn't immediately show it.

You watch the video of Darrin over and over again until you see it. Darrin isn't aggressive until someone touches him. That's what set him off. It happens before he stabs someone. He hates being touched which is a trigger for him.

He never meant to hurt these people, and he never went in there with a weapon. JJ is working with the media to inform them as soon as she possibly can. Darrin's apartment is a five-minute walking distance from the pharmacy but there is no sign at his apartment that he came back to wash off the blood, which means he's still bloody and walking around town like that.

Penelope says he doesn't have any family, so where is he going to go looking like that? He might be messy in the head and in his everyday life, but his apartment is really neat or maybe he's military or hospitalized which means he has the same routine every day.

However, today is different. He killed three people. Why did it change?

The energy left at the pharmacy is astounding. The energy is breaking off into different streams as if it's panicking. Darrin isn't right in the head and he is definitely going to hurt himself sooner rather than later. He's going to piss off the wrong person and get hurt.

"Hotch, he's losing his mind. His mind is tearing itself into pieces. This energy is being pulled apart." Hotch stares straight ahead without giving you any indication that he heard you. "Hotch, did you hear me?"

"Yeah," he nods and walks off.

Hotch isn't okay. Who would be after what he went through?

"Mr. Call was always so quiet. He's been coming here for years," a woman talking to Derek says.

She is the pharmacist responsible for giving out medications to people.

"Has he ever had a run-in with the stock boy?"

"I can't see why he would. John was new here. I waved him over. I didn't know what else to do. No one else was helping."

"He didn't turn violent until you gave him his prescription?" you ask.

"It wasn't his. It was somebody else's. I just wanted him to calm down."

"JJ's press conference is in five minutes," Hotch says when he joins the group.

"Hotch, we might have something else here. Why didn't you give him his own medication?" Derek asks the woman.

"He didn't have any refills left."

"For what?"

"Alprazolam, but he used to be on Thiothixene."

"He was on an antipsychotic?" Hotch asks.

"That's why I wanted him to calm down. He's been off his medications for about a month now."

"When were you gonna tell us this? He's armed and delusional. Who's his doctor?" Hotch asks angrily.

"I don't remember. My computer..."

You turn to see her computer had been damaged in the fight.

"Great," Hotch scoffs and walks off.

"I'm sorry."

You and Derek look at each other because Hotch is completely out of line for this.

"He's not listening to us. I've seen this kind of behavior before. He's not going to want to listen. Not until he catches Foyet." You two walk over to Hotch. "Hotch."

"Call JJ and tell her about the meds."

"This is not her fault and you know it."

"Morgan, he's in a psychotic break. It changes everything."

"Do you want to talk about this?"

"No! I want to find him!" Hotch sighs in frustration and pulls out his phone to call Penelope. "Garcia, he's been off his antipsychotic for a month. What else did you miss?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't get his medical records yet, so--"

"Find them. Find everything."

"Yes, sir."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

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gatheringbones · 7 months

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[“The fact remains that the most effective long-term solutions to protecting and empowering victims of abuse are policy changes that would grant victims reliable access to health care, housing, livable income, paid sick leave, child care, and safety from criminalization. Yet bureaucratic impediments on the federal level, lack of leadership from Democrats as a serious “opposition party” against Republicans, and general inaction have stalled meaningful, nationwide, progressive economic legislation for decades. As a result, too many victims are forced to stay in dangerous, traumatizing relationships solely for economic reasons, in a country where poverty can be a death sentence, and those who experience poverty are disproportionately policed for “survival crimes”—what we call being punished by the state for its own failure to invest in community resources, and its reliance on commodifying and profiting off incarcerating the most vulnerable.

Despite how frequently cases of rape and domestic abuse are invoked to justify policing and prisons, women who are victims of abuse face more severe punishment for “enabling” child abuse, pregnancy loss, or even surviving abuse, broadly, than their abusers do. The many documented cases of this include Marshae Jones, a Black woman in Alabama who was jailed for fetal homicide in 2019 after miscarrying from being shot in the stomach. Sex workers who report being victimized are disbelieved and often criminalized by police officers themselves (a 2007 study found 44 percent of police officers said they were unlikely to believe a report of rape from a sex worker), while the rapes and sexual violence cases of Black and Indigenous women and girls are chronically ignored by police departments and media.

Victims of abuse with the least resources and social capital are more likely to face punishment than anything else when they seek help from authorities, rendering it more likely they would seek criminalized means to protect or provide for themselves. In too many documented cases that disproportionately implicate people of color, pregnant people are criminally charged for ostensibly endangering fetuses—for example, due to substance use struggles—and even prior to the overturning of Roe, for self-managed abortions. Many pregnant people have faced charges or incarceration for miscarriage or stillbirth, and even for harms inflicted on them while they were pregnant, like Marshae Jones.

This is in part because about forty states have feticide laws that were written with the intention of protecting pregnant people from domestic violence. It’s an important crisis to address, given how high homicide rates targeting pregnant people are. Yet all too often, feticide laws are co-opted and misused by anti-abortion activists and prosecutors to criminally charge pregnant people who lose their pregnancies. Misuse of fetal homicide laws has contributed to the nearly 1,300 criminal charges for pregnancy loss doled out between 2006 and 2020 alone—a number that’s tripled from 1973 to 2005, according to research from Pregnancy Justice. Let’s not forget that it’s police officers who are the primary enforcers of abortion bans, a role they’ve enthusiastically stepped into: In February 2022 the city of Louisville paid a police officer $75,000 in settlement fees almost a year after the officer was suspended for protesting outside a local abortion clinic while armed and in uniform. After being suspended with pay for almost half a year in 2021, the officer sued the city for supposedly violating his constitutional rights while off-duty and discriminating against him for his “pro-life” views. The incident is part of a long history of police officers either ignoring or enabling violent anti-abortion protesters at clinics, and apparently even joining protesters themselves.

Fetal homicide laws are just one example of legislation that accords unborn fetuses with legal personhood rights, resulting in extensive legal risks for pregnant people, and particularly those who experience abuse. Dana Sussman, deputy executive director of Pregnancy Justice, told me in 2022 that there’s “simply no way to grant fetuses ‘personhood rights’ without subjugating the rights of pregnant people by creating a false tension between the rights of the fetus and the rights of a pregnant person.” When a pregnant person’s “rights are secondary to the fetus, or at odds with the fetus, that lends to an environment in which violence—whether it’s state violence like imprisonment, or interpersonal violence—can be committed against pregnant people with far less accountability.”]

kylie cheung, from survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy, 2023

#kylie cheung #currently reading #cw rape #cw abuse #history stuff

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus. - Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [ENDING] [ALT. ENDING] || Sandman-inspired playlist

[TW: blood, graphic depictions of an injury/illness]

The burning wood in the fireplace cracked pleasantly, reminding one that the cold sea breeze no longer had them in her grasp. In a way, it was that very same freezing wind that made one appreciate the warmth of the fire. The quiet cracking was a nice change from the loudness of the shore.

The inside of your house looked more like a workshop or a laboratory rather than a place where someone lived. Sketches, manuscripts and pieces of newspapers covered most of the walls. The spots where the old flowery wallpaper was left uncovered, had drawings and inscriptions written in chalk made on them. Looking at the seemingly chaotic groupings of all things strange and deranged, one may experience doubts as to the owner's sanity: it was either madness that drove them among cults, botany, astronomy and unsolved crimes or pure genius yet to be recognized. But as it is with all matters that toe this fascinating line, the final decision, whether one was a genius, a madman or a bit of both, belonged to the generations yet to be born; eyes that were yet to blink and tongues that were yet to speak.

"What is this?" Morpheus asked hesitantly as he looked around the room. He deserved a generous portion of understanding for that moment of anxiety: the last time he witnessed those symbols, he ended up imprisoned for a decade. It was only natural that he should react like that. Additionally, the jars with strange contents and dubious labels couldn't be comfort-bringing.

"A monument of my desperation," you answered as you tried to bring even a fraction of order to the papers cluttering your desk. A new, unread newspaper lay among your notes and old books. The front page's headline read 'Louisville theft still unsolved' in bolded letters. "I studied the occult and alchemy to find out what curse my father had put on me but to no avail. Years I have spent chasing after my own ailment, an answer as to what tragedy awaits me around the corner of tomorrow. The question, however, I have left unanswered."

"You have given up," he stated. Despite having no knowledge of your life during those years, Morpheus appeared surprisingly certain in his judgement.

"Yes..." you drew out your answer. Perhaps it was at that very moment that you finally understood it. You nodded your head slightly before continuing. "Yes, I have. But then a new endeavour occupied my mind, one that wouldn't render my studies useless, a waste of time. I wanted to find you."

Momentarily, his attention deviated from the jars, drying plants and unintelligible diagrams only to focus on you. It was a lovely sentiment in all of its romanticism - that the moment your paths diverged, both of you worked to make them cross again and all of that because you were simply curious about one another. Standing under the night sky diagram you had hand drawn in chalk on the ceiling of the room, perhaps it wasn't a stretch to call the two of you starcrossed. There was, however, a certain sadness to that statement: stars, as it befits their whims, align in a specific way only once in a long while. Maybe, just maybe, the gods that watch over stars were going to be merciful towards Dream and you.

Morpheus was standing with his back towards the fireplace. The flame made him cast a long shadow over the old, stained carpet that was already there when you moved into the house years ago. With that bright, dancing halo he appeared both heavenly and hellish like frostbite that feels so cold it burns like the hottest fire. But in all of those contradictory extremes, he never appeared dangerous or you simply couldn't perceive him in that way. Perhaps he was like that fireplace in your house: a raging flame consuming everything in sight but still contained enough to not feel scared of turning away from it. "What for?" he asked in a low voice. For some reason, his tone appeared angered as if he wasn't quite keen on you succeeding in your quest.

"Do not grow anxious, my dear stranger," you spoke mildly with your hands clasped together as if some part of you wanted to beg him to not treat you like a danger waiting to happen. There was something painfully lonely about a man who saw betrayal and ruthlessness in every pair of eyes he encountered. "My heart never harboured any malice towards you. I wished to find you only to ask how you've been doing, whether all those years when you were stripped of freedom had corrupted any goodwill you once had." Unable to help your empathetic nature, your mind began conjuring all possible pain and misery he was forced to endure. Your gaze fell to the floor, for a moment admiring the hue of the flames dancing across the old carpet. "It is beyond my imagination to fantasize about what torment such cruelty must do to a human," you added quietly.

"I am not human."

"I know," you looked back at him but only for a moment. Morpheus had a curious habit of staring at you, maybe at everyone else too, in a very intense way and you found it difficult to hold his stare each time you wanted to or felt like you should. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you're invincible."

Suddenly, a piercing pain struck the left side of your chest - the same area where the blasphemous mark stained your skin. A fit of dry, suffocating cough shook your entire body. Weakness overtook your body and you would have fallen hard to the ground had Morpheus not caught you. Careful and anxious, he lay you on the nearby sofa with a washed-out floral print - it could be roughly his age. With the continued cough came spatters of blood that now stained your clothes and the antique day bed. Terrifyingly quickly, your eyes became bloodshot and a thin streak of crimson run down from your nostril. If Morpheus could get any more pasty white, he surely would have as such cruel magic was unfamiliar to him.

"The shelf..." you strained as your shaking hand vaguely pointed at an antique dresser filled with jars and tins that once sparked fear in Dream's mind. "Madrake... thyme... rosemary... throw in... in fire." Trying to desperately catch a breath, you wheezed between each word, a sickly whitening resounding in your constricted throat.

He didn't know what any of those plants looked like because he never had to. At that moment, when he opened the glass doors of the dresser with enough strength to tear them off, it all went down to the legibility of your writing and whether or not you had labelled the containers correctly. How funny it truly would be - to die because of one's own inattention in their own house like tyrants and heirs do; to suffer the consequences of one's actions with the mercilessness of gods of death. Morpheus rummaged through the dresser, throwing away any jar or tin that was not labelled as mandrake, rosemary or thyme. Perhaps, if you were a little further away from the line between life and death you'd feel a little upset at his carelessness.

When he finally found the correct herbs, Morpheus did not bother with maintaining correct proportions and so he simply opened the jars and threw all of their contents into the fire. He could, of course, dispute your orders as he was a king - not a simpleton to boss around. However, Dream knew better than to disregard a witch when black magic was at play.

The fire suddenly became purple and doubled if not tripled in its size and ferocity. Its flames licked the ceiling but never dared to set it ablaze. Just as swiftly the violet hearth returned to its original form and no change in its appearance could ever suggest something akin to supernatural had taken place inside that fireplace. With the blaze red and contained again, you gasped for air as the pain momentarily subsided. Although only minutes had passed since the curse sunk its teeth into your innocent skin, it felt as if it was the very first time in your life that you took such a deep breath and felt no unbearable, stinging pain. What a blessing it was, to be a victim only occasionally and not constantly.

Morpheus crouched next to you, remaining at your eye level. If you focused your exhausted mind, you could nearly see his face clearly. "Is this the curse your father put on you?" he asked quietly. But, truthfully, he didn't seek an answer. His question was more of an expression of disbelief. And how curious that disbelief was - that the King of Dreams found something unimaginable.

The blood on your shirt was the price of his freedom. If that was the fate of someone who took his side on their own accord, was it not also his affair? Morpheus could have stopped you that day and yet he didn't. Was he not, at least partially, responsible for those crimson stains? Priests often say that 'idle hands are the Devil's best friend' and Morpheus, in his convenient passiveness towards your brave though foolish choice, had both of them; he made a decision of making no decision and you were the one who suffered the consequences as if you weren't human but a figment of Shakespeare's imagination. He knew that if he lets your suffering continue, if he doesn't even try no matter the odds of success, he too could become of Shakespear's fantasy: as though he was the true Lady Macbeth, your blood wasn't going to wash off his pale skin, forever screaming into the void "He could! He could! And he didn't!"

And yet, you never spoke a bad word about your father, at least not to him. Should you not grieve this unfairness? Seeth at the greed and violence of the one man who was supposed to love you above all creation? Your father sentenced you to a cruel, painful and excruciatingly long death and you fed mallards on a winter morning. At that moment, for the first time since he met you, Morpheus finally saw you for what you really were. If you had no fury for such injustice, he was willing to lend you some of his. Oh but his rage... it was aeons old, rotting inside a heart that never dared to acknowledge its severity. It was fury audible in storms that drowned ships and felt in earthquakes that swallowed entire cities.

"Thank you," you whispered to him. "I suppose it's quite rude of me to faint on a stranger." Your words came out a little slurred.

"We are not strangers. Not anymore. You have seen to that." Although he never specified that, you knew he didn't necessarily mean saving your life.

"Good." Your gaze was hazy, vision becoming blurry as restful sleep forced itself on your eyelids. Despite that overwhelming exhaustion, a soft smile entered your face and Morpheus wondered if you gave that kind grin to everyone or only him. "I heard it's a bad practice to let strange men into one's home."

Seriously considering just coming up with a nice title and making this into a mini-series and not a thousand parts of one imagine... Thank you for all the kind words and support!

Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @rosaren2498 @jessiboobdbdb @chantzmar @lexi-anastasia @bisexualunicronrunningloose @farintonorth @oo0lady-mad0oo @all-bi-myselfs-blog @piperstofu101 @magic-magnoliaa @kotonei-molyneux @wheresmyboo @supermegapauselouca

#the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus imagine #morpheus x you #morpheus sandman #morpheus x reader #morpheus

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conradscrime · 4 months

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The Twisted Crimes of Catholic Priest Hans Schmidt

January 28, 2024

Hans Schmidt was born in 1881 in a Bavarian town called Aschaffenburg. It was said that both of Hans' parents sides of the family had struggled with mental illness.

Hans was beaten by his father as a child and often watched his mother get beaten too. Hans also had a fascination with drinking blood and was interested in bisexuality. He was also fascinated with the death of animals, often watching farm animals die at the village slaughterhouse.

Hans was ordained as a Catholic priest on December 23, 1904 by Bishop Kirstein, despite many people believing he did not have the proper morals or mental capacity to do this kind of work.

Hans began molesting altar boys, was having affairs with various women, and was involved with sex workers. Many fellow priests complained to the Bishop about Hans, and eventually he had to move to the US in 1909, as they stopped giving him parish assignments due to the complaints.

He was assigned to St. John's Roman Catholic Church in Louisville, Kentucky, but was soon transfered to St. Boniface's Church in New York as he got into it with a senior pastor.

Hans met a woman named Anna Aumüller in New York in 1912. She was the housekeeper of the church and had emigrated from the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1910. Hans later claimed he had heard a "voice from God" telling him to love Anna. Anna originally turned down Hans, but eventually engaged in a sexual relationship with him.

In December 1912, Hans began a secret sexual relationship with a New York dentist named Ernest Muret. The two men began operating a counterfeiting ring together.

Hans was then transfered to another church in Harlem but it did not stop him from keeping his secret relationship with Anna. The two even got married secretly, a ceremony Hans performed.

During sex with Anna, Hans later said he received a command from God, telling him Anna needed to be sacrificed. Hans said it was very persistent so he told Anna and she called him crazy. Anna began pregnant shortly after this.

On September 2, 1913, Hans went to the apartment him and Anna had been pretending to live in as a married couple. Hans slit Anna's throat while she was sleeping and then drank her blood. He also raped her while she bled and dismembered her body, throwing pieces of it into the river.

Anna's torso washed up on Cliffside Park and Weehawken, New Jersey. Hans had used a pillowcase to wrap part of Anna's body and there was still a tag on it. This was traced to Hans, after he had bought the pillowcases on August 26, 1913 using the name A. Van Dyke.

Police staked out the apartment for three days, but Hans did not return so they broke into the apartment to search it. The floors had recently been scrubbed, but dried blood was found on the walls. A bloody knife was found in the kitchen. Men's clothing with the name A. Van Dyke sewn into the clothes were found, but letters in the apartment were addressed to Hans Schmidt.

Lots of the letters were sent from women in Germany, but most of them were sent from Anna. This led the police to the address Anna had provided, but she was not there. They traced everything back to Hans who had admitted immediately that he killed Anna.

Hans plead guilty by reason of insanity. Due to his family's history with mental illness many thought he was insane. However, many people who interacted with Hans did think he was sane. This led to a hung jury in December 1913.

The second trial began two weeks later and it was found that Hans had actually taken out a $5000 life insurance policy in a woman's name of Bertha Zech, who was posing as Anna.

On February 5, 1914, after three hours, the jury found Hans guilty of first degree murder. He was sentenced to death. In December 1914, Hans admitted he was faking being insane during the trials. He also accused Ernest, the dentist he was having an affair with of accidentally killing Anna while performing an abortion.

On February 18, 1916, Hans went in the electric chair at Sing Sing. In a muffled voice, his last words were saying goodbye to his mother. Hans' family wanted to ship his body to Germany, but because of World War I it was impossible to do so. Hans was buried in New York, but his family requested that the location be a secret.

Hans has been suspected in at least 4 other murders. He had been seen with a woman named Helen Green, who then disappeared. She was never found. Hans was also seen with a woman he claimed was his wife when he first moved to the US. This woman disappeared.

The apartment Hans lived in he was seen with a 5 year old boy in his living room by the owner of the building. Hans said the boy was his son, but he then disappeared. He told the owner his son's name was August Van Dyke.

Hans was a suspect in the murder of 9 year old Alma Kellner, whose body was found burned in the basement of St. John's Church in Louisville, Kentucky, which he worked. Her body had been burned and the killer attempted to dismember her.

It was eventually discovered that the church janitor, Joseph Wendling was responsible. He was sentenced to life in prison, but Alma's uncle requested for him to be pardoned and he was deported to France in 1935.

#true crime #crime #unsolved mysteries #unsolved #murder #homicide #unsolved murder #unsolved case #solved #mystery #kentucky #killer #serial killer

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truecrimecrystals · 5 months

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Angela Nelson-Carroll was found brutally murdered in Louisville, Kentucky on May 31st, 2004.

That morning, road crews were picking up garbage off of Gene Snyder Freeway when they spotted upon something unexpected: the body of a young girl. Police were called, and the area was subsequently closed off as a crime scene. A short time later, the body was identified as that of Angela Nelson-Carroll. She was only 17 years old.

Angela's death was labeled a homicide. She suffered head injuries due to blunt force trauma and she also had been strangled. It is believed that Angela was attacked before her body was discarded on the freeway. One of the road crew workers who spotted Angela's body said that it looked like her body had been purposely pushed/rolled down an embankment.

No suspects have ever been publicly identified in Angela's case. Reports from 2004 state that Angela was married to a man named Robert Carroll. Robert, then 25, was incarcerated at the time of Angela's murder and was quickly ruled out as a suspect. A report on Angela's case from 2014 also references a boyfriend. Specifically, the report states, "at the time of her murder, Angela's boyfriend was questioned but was never named a suspect."

It was also reported in 2014 that investigators initially had "several persons of interest but each one has been cleared." The same report said that DNA from the crime scene has been entered into the database, but so far, there has not been a match. Since then, it appears that there have not been any updates in Angela's case.

Angela's murder remains unsolved today. If you have any information that could lead to the arrest of her killer(s), please submit a tip.

#angela nelson-carroll #unsolved #unsolved murder #true crime #true crime research #2004 #tcoriginal #kentucky

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danny-wagners-bestie · 25 days

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please help share this for anyone camping for the louisville show!!! helpful information about camping below!!!

louisville has very high crime rates!! if you are camping you need to be mindful of that especially if you do not know the area well. i would never ever camp in the area of the arena because its very unsafe. there are large groups of homeless people that set up camps in that area and while most of them are harmless there can be some that are looking to harass/harm people. and although i have never seen it i have family that has told me every time they drive around in the area of the arena that there is a man who does not wear clothes at all who likes to walk around that area and harass people so please please please be aware of your surroundings and be mindful of these things especially if you are a female and by yourself. IT IS NOT SAFE!! there is a REASON the venue has said to come at 8am. keep that in mind. but really if everyone does camp please please look out for each other and be nice to everyone around you and if you ARE by yourself maybe make friends with the people around you so you won’t be alone!! everyone stay safe and best of luck out there! can’t wait for thursday!

(EDIT: i would like to clarify that i am in no way shape or form trying to discriminate against homeless people but i will say i have been screamed at and harassed by homeless people in this area after concerts before!! it really isn’t safe and that’s why the arena says you can line up at 8am. it is for everyone’s safety!)

#concerts #greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #danny wagner #jake kiszka #sammy kiszka #dig 2022 #starcatcher world tour #scwt louisville #gvf concert #this has been a psa #you’ve been warned #stay safe everyone

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beardedmrbean · 9 months

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Detroit City Council on Tuesday approved a $5 million expansion of the use of license plate readers across the city, using federal pandemic relief funds.

It's the latest City Council vote on surveillance technology that has ignited debate in the community. Other surveillance tools Detroit police utilize include ShotSpotter — City Council last year OK'd spending $8.5 million on the gunshot detection technology amid fierce support and opposition — Project Green Light video surveillance and facial recognition technology

Two City Council members voted against the license plate reader spending: Gabriela Santiago-Romero and Latisha Johnson.

Detroit police have used license plate readers since 2018. But with the city's new contract with Motorola Solutions, an additional 100 cameras will be set up at 25 intersections, according to Detroit police. There are currently 83 cameras set up at intersections, in addition to over 100 mobile cameras.

The vast majority of community members who tuned in to Tuesday's council vote urged their city leaders to approve the $5 million dollar contract in hopes that it could address speeding on Detroit's roads — but using license plate readers for traffic and civil infractions goes against Detroit police policy.

According to Detroit Police Department policy, license plate readers are used in investigations involving auto theft — which Detroit has seen more of in the past year — and violent crimes such as homicides and sexual assaults.

The cameras are focused on the rear of vehicles and photos are taken of license plates, Deputy Chief Franklin Hayes said during an hourlong debate prior to Tuesday's vote. The cameras do not capture the faces of drivers and are not used to identify them, he said. Officials in other cities, like Louisville, Kentucky, have reported otherwise, stating license plate readers can be used to capture faces.

Data retrieved from Detroit's license plate readers is saved for 90 days, Hayes said.

Police Chief James White described license plate readers as "one of the most useful and powerful tools that we have" during Tuesday's debate.

He noted the technology was used to locate Rashad Trice, the man charged in the killing of 2-year-old Wynter Cole-Smith — the child was kidnapped in Lansing and later found dead in Detroit, and Trice, the prime suspect, was located in St. Clair Shores.

"Certainly we don't want anyone to abuse this tool," White added.

Many community members have opposed using more license plate readers. They spoke of civil liberty and privacy concerns amid growing reliance on surveillance technology, questioned the technology's effectiveness and questioned who owns the data, and how it's protected.

One major concern involves potential harm the technology could cause in Detroit's immigrant communities. White said it's against department policy to share data with government agencies such as U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and U.S Customs and Border Protection.

Sean Rositano, who works with the Michigan Immigrant Rights Center and is a member of the Detroit Immigration Task Force, said representatives of the task force met with Detroit police and aren't convinced the department's policies provide enough protection for immigrant communities.

"Cities nationwide have fought to limit license plate readers because researchers have shown ICE and Custom and Border Protection regularly purchase access to Motorola’s license plate databases," Rositano said on Monday during the City Council's public health and safety committee meeting.

"We do not want Detroit immigrant families separated, detained or deported because their license plate was stored in a database that immigration enforcement agencies can access. (Detroit police) would need to make amendments to its policies and contract with Motorola to ensure that safety of immigrants comes first."

Rositano suggested Detroit police limit agencies it shares data with, strengthen its oversight and provide transparent reporting to ensure ICE and CBP do not have access to Detroit’s data.

A spokesperson for the Detroit Police Department said the department owns the data collected by its license plate readers.

Santiago-Romero shared Rositano's concern over potential harm against immigrants in Detroit.

And she, among others, also questioned the technology's effectiveness compared with its cost.

Santiago-Romero noted that, according to Detroit police data, the technology conducted nearly 25 million license plate readings in the last 90 days, leading to only 64 arrests.

But White pushed back: Among the 64 people arrested, 16 are suspected of murder, he said.

"Sixteen murderers. That's the cost," White said.

#nunyas news

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ausetkmt · 2 years

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"Grandmaster Jay" Gets Sentenced To Prison For Actions At 2020 Breonna Taylor Protests

Grandmaster Jay,” whose name is John Fitzgerald Johnson, was sentenced Wednesday to seven years and two months in prison. Johnson, 59, was found guilty of brandishing a firearm at state and federal officers as well as assault. In February 2021, he was first indicted by a federal grand jury. In May of this year, he was found guilty.

Johnson, who is a leader of a Black militia, led the group through a march in the September 2020 Breonna Taylor protests in Louisville twice. According to a statement from the U.S. Department of Justice, he also received 3 years of supervised release, with no option of parole, in addition to the prison sentence.

Following the Louisville protests, Johnson was said to have pointed his AR-15 rifle toward a roof where a Secret Service agent, an FBI agent, and three local officers had been stationed. An excerpt from the Department of Justice statement explains:

“According to court documents and evidence presented at trial, Johnson, on the evening of September 4, 2020, forcibly assaulted, resisted, opposed, impeded, intimidated, and interfered with a federally deputized task force officer who was performing official duties, when Johnson aimed a rifle at him. Johnson brandished an AR-15 platform rifle and tactical flashlight at two federally deputized Task Force Officers. Both are detectives with the Louisville Metro Police Department. Johnson was also sentenced to 3 years of supervised release upon completion of his term of imprisonment. There is no parole in the federal system.”

Ultimately, Johnson was later found guilty of one count of brandishing a firearm in relation to a crime of violence and one count of assaulting a federal officer. Johnson’s lawyer, Murdoch Walker II, commented to the The Courier Journal that the sentencing was a “bittersweet day” and that it was “inevitable.” He also shared that they plan to appeal.

#Grandmaster Jay sentenced #NFAC #black history #BLM #Black Lives Matter #louisville ky #2nd amendment

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

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Abortion could be prosecuted as criminal homicide under bill filed by Kentucky lawmaker

BY ALEX ACQUISTO AND AUSTIN HORN

Illegal abortions in Kentucky could be prosecuted as murder under a new bill from a Louisville Republican.

Rep. Emily Callaway, R-Louisville, filed the “Prenatal Equal Protection Act” on Tuesday, which proposes that unlawful pregnancy termination “shall be subject to the same legal principles as would apply to the homicide of a person who had been born alive,” according to the bill language.

Criminal homicide under Kentucky law means a person is “guilty of causing the death of another human being under circumstances which constitute murder,” first and second degree manslaughter, or reckless homicide. Callaway’s House Bill 300 proposes broadening the definition of “human being” to also include an “unborn child.”

Abortion is already illegal and criminalized in Kentucky, except in cases where termination is necessary to save the life of a pregnant person – a too-narrow exception Kentucky providers have said harms pregnant patients and deprives them of medically-recommended care.

A trigger law banning abortion except in medical emergencies and a six-week ban on abortion took effect in June after the U.S. Supreme Court overturned federal abortion protections. Kentucky’s bans do not include exceptions for rape, incest, or for pregnant minors.

Kentucky’s current trigger law aims to prosecute doctors who provide unlawful abortions, while pregnant people who get an abortion are not subject to prosecution. But Callaway’s proposed bill would allow for pregnant people and their doctors to be prosecuted.

Callaway is a first-year representative, having beaten Democratic incumbent Rep. Jeff Donohue by 14 points in a South Louisville district that changed significantly after the GOP-led redistricting effort last year.

Exceptions under the bill include abortions necessary to “avert the death of the pregnant woman;” in cases of “spontaneous miscarriage;” or when abortion is provided only after “all reasonable alternatives to save the life of the unborn child are unavailable; or were attempted unsuccessfully before the performance of a medical procedure.”

The bill makes clear the Attorney General’s office would have concurrent jurisdiction over prosecuting this crime, along with county and commonwealth’s attorneys.

But Republican Attorney General Daniel Cameron, ardently supportive of Kentucky’s bans on abortion, was quick to criticize Callaway’s bill on Wednesday, saying it “strikes the wrong balance.”

“While I strongly support prohibiting abortions in Kentucky, I just as strongly support helping pregnant women,” Cameron said in a statement, calling on lawmakers not to support the bill. “Pregnant mothers deserve our help, support, and life-affirming options, not to face criminal charges.”

He touted Kentucky’s trigger law as one that “appropriately values the life of a pregnant woman and her unborn child, (because) it does not permit the prosecution of pregnant mothers.”

Kentucky, along with dozens of other states, already has fetal homicide laws on the books. Recognizing fetal personhood, the commonwealth’s laws dating back to 2004 make it a criminal offense to cause the death of an “unborn child.”

But not only do those laws only refer to perpetrators with “he” and “him” pronouns, the list of exceptions makes clear doctors who provide abortions to their consenting patients are not guilty of fetal homicide.

Since Roe v. Wade was overturned last summer, a handful of GOP-controlled states have floated bills to make abortion a crime of homicide. But even in states that have aggressively restricted abortion access, it’s a hard sell. A proposal in Louisiana last year that would’ve allowed women who get abortions and doctors who provide them to be charged with murder was withdrawn after a firestorm of opposition.

Callaway’s bill is ostensibly aimed at people who coerce pregnant people into getting abortions, even though it also carries punitive measures for pregnant people: “Pregnant mothers should be protected from being pressured to abort their children by repealing provisions that may otherwise allow a person to solicit, command, aid or counsel a mother to abort her child,” the bill reads.

It’s the second abortion-related bill in as many days filed by Republicans. Sen. Whitney Westerfield, R-Crofton, proposed on Tuesday asking voters whether they want to amend the Kentucky Constitution to make clear it does not contain a protected right to abortion. Voters rejected a near-identical proposal last November in Amendment 2.

Legislative leaders have expressed caution at passing any abortion-related laws until the Kentucky Supreme Court rules on the merits of a lawsuit from the state’s two outpatient abortion providers, challenging the constitutionality of the trigger law and six-week ban.

That ruling will have a bearing on whether or not either law is ultimately enforceable.

Though the GOP-controlled Legislature has made no moves to amend current abortion bans since both laws took effect seven months ago, House leadership on Wednesday morning said bills with exceptions would be filed in the coming days.

In a statement, House Speaker David Osborne’s office also distanced itself from Callaway’s proposal: “In the history of our Commonwealth, the Kentucky General Assembly has never passed a pro-life measure that did not take into consideration the necessity for any exceptions, nor has this House Majority Caucus ever contemplated doing so.”

While the Legislature waits for the high court to weigh in, “we continue to have legitimate discussions on future policy. As a result, we anticipate legislation will be filed in the coming days, including bills that will provide further exceptions,” Osborne said.

That case was heard before the previous court in November. But Justices did not rule in time before two new Justices joined their ranks in January.

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