Part of one of the most prominent and richest families in America: The du Pont Family. Then, strangely, he started losing his mind. This is what is known: du Pont was a fan of amateur sports and established a wrestling facility at his Foxcatcher Farm. He befriended several Olympic champions--including Dave Schultz, who he murdered. It was a never a question of if he did it; the question is why. What turns an otherwise sane man into a psychotic killer? This page-turning true crime story will take you into the mind of a man who had everything and let it all fall away due to madness and paranoia.

    This is a collection of original essays that can not be found anywhere else. Each volume is different and you never know what you'll find. They are an assortment of Jen's childhood memories, stories about her family, and rants about everything that make her punchy all told with her usual snarky take. Volume Three of this series includes 3 NEVER BEFORE SEEN essays: HEY DICK, WOULD YOU SEND YOUR MOM THAT PICTURE? LAURA INGALLS WILDER NEVER HAD A SIGNATURE LIPSMACKER FLAVOR MISSED MOM CONNECTION

    How did he become Glasgow's most feared gangster, deemed a risk to national security?Arthur Thompson, Godfather of the crime world and senior partner of the Krays, recruited young Ferris as a bagman, debt collector and equaliser. Feared for his capacity for extreme violence, respected for his intelligence, Ferris was the Godfather's heir apparent. But when gang warfare broke, underworld leaders traded in flesh, colluding with their partners - the police. Disgusted, Ferris left the Godfather and stood alone. They gave him weeks to live.While Ferris was caged in Barlinnie Prison's segregation unit accused of murdering Thompson's son, Fatboy, his two friends were shot dead the night before the funeral and grotesquely displayed in a car on the cortége's route. Acquitted against all the odds, Ferris moved on, determined to make an honest living.They would not let him.The National Crime Squad, MI5, the police and two of the country's most powerful gangsters saw to that. A maximum-security prisoner, Ferris is known as 'Lucky' because he is still alive.This is one man's unique insight into Britain's crime world and the inextricable web of corruption - a revealing story of official corruption and unholy alliances.

    He's the prime suspect in the 2004 murder of Keith Palomares, a 25-year-old armored truck guard. Despite the FBI's active investigation, Brown remains at large living among us without a trace. And yet, a faint pulse of his identity surfaces from time to time, haunting the detectives tasked to find him. In the Kindle Single The Ghost, crime writer Paige Williams chronicles the case and draws a portrait of a killer who is as slippery and elusive as he is enigmatic. Jason Derek Brown was raised by a Mormon father who held a high position in the church despite being a known con man. Jason himself was a devout Mormon for years, and maintained his generosity and Southern California charm even as he slid into a life of excessive materialism fueled by theft. Aside from the murder, he has no history of violence. His case is downright perplexing, and Williams captures it from multiple viewpoints in pitch-perfect prose. --Paul Diamond

    Rosenbaum's articles delve into some of America's greatest mysteries such as "Oswald's Ghost", "The Mysterious Death of J.F.K.'s Mistress", "Back on the Watergate Case with Inspector RN", and "Dead Ringers". Rosenbaum is a regular contributor to Vanity Fair and The New York Times.

    But when he was finally released Caesar found that the world of the outlaw motorcycle gangs was changing, and that his particular values of courage, brutal force and utter loyalty to your club were making him more enemies than friends.And with Caesar Campbell you'd rather be a friend than an enemy...

    DiMaggio, one of the most decorated officers on the force during a career that spanned the years 1957 to 1991. Among his awards are two Superintendent’s Awards of Valor, Mayor Richard J. Daley’s Praiseworthy Acknowledgment Plaque for Exceptional Act of Bravery Involving Risk of Life, a Presidential Citation of Appreciation, the Illinois Police Association Award of Valor, and many more.Upon his retirement in 1991, DiMaggio wrote a fascinating account of his work as a cop. The manuscript languished among his personal effects until after his death in 2008, after which his family decided to resurrect it, spruce it up, and submit it for publication. It turns out that he was an excellent word craftsman and storyteller; in fact, he was no stranger to writing—for many years he wrote the “Ask Sarge” column for the Mystery Writers of America Midwest Chapter newsletter.Told in a conversational, “regular guy” voice in episodic fashion, “SARGE!” reveals to the reader what it was really like to be a cop. The manuscript in many ways takes the form of a prose treatment of a weekly television police drama. A large selection of PHOTOS is included.DiMaggio takes the reader back to the decades such as the turbulent 1960s, when the police department was making a painful transition from “old school” to modernization. The author describes firsthand the legendary riots that occurred in Chicago after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. He illustrates the integration of minorities into the department and how that played out. He also goes into famous cases of corruption and the politics of navigating such a large department. One of the “set pieces” of the book is the story of how DiMaggio, as part of the “Three Musketeers”—a trio that included two detectives who were close friends—investigated a series terrifying slasher attacks on women that occurred in the city in the mid-70s. The case became one of the police department’s most memorable. Among the other cases detailed in the book include how DiMaggio found himself entering the home of a crazed young man holding hostages with a shotgun; the investigation of the discovery of a headless corpse; the take-down of the Chicago “Mad Bomber”; how an anonymous audio tape provided clues to the identities of armed robbers; and the manhunt for a cop killer. A portion of all proceeds will be donated to The Chicago Police Memorial Foundation and The Chicago Police Foundation.

    But you don't know the truth. A religious zealot put a $250,000 bounty on my head, urging that I be tortured before I'm killed. I was condemned by the President of the United States, the majority leaders of the House and Senate, the governor of Florida, the Pope, Jesse Jackson, and the right-wing media. My two babies were threatened with death to teach me a lesson. On the night my wife died, snipers had to be posted on the roof of the hospice because of death threats." Michael Schiavo's memoir may not change your mind about the Terri Schiavo issue, but it will help you realize at what stakes it was waged.

    Why did she get acquitted? Why did the jurors see George as a suspect? Why did they think she was a good mother? And how on God's green earth did they miss the suffocation search? There are surprisingly good answers for all of these questions. I argue in this book that not only did the prosecution hide evidence from the jury, but that the evidence points to Casey being factually innocent as well. Regardless of whether you agree with my viewpoint, I guarantee you'll learn something you didn't know before about this infamous case.

    He catches a cargo ship across the Indian Ocean, risks a dicey gauntlet of terrorists and Chinese tanks, has beers with a naked ex-Soviet officer in Kazakhstan... And he wears flip-flops for the whole journey. Why? For no good reason — though it does mean saving money on socks.

    

    An entire year has been included in this book, and as we go into 2019, it's important to remember not only the shocking events that took place, but also to acknowledge the many that lost their lives at the hands of others this year.The types of cases included are: Serial killersFamily murdersMass murdersSchool shootingsMajor hacking incidentsTerrorist ActsCold CasesThere have been many advances in technology that has led to the uncovering on many suspects in cold cases, including the identity of the Golden State Killer, a secret that had remained hidden for decades. A number of cold case murders were solved this year, bringing an end to the torture the affected families and the investigators had endured for so many years.Tragically, school shootings were still prevalent, and mass shootings seem to be on the rise. Terrorism struck many corners of the world, in a variety of ways, but results were swifter in identifying perpetrators and taking action.Some of the featured events in this anthology include: Marshall County High School ShootingThe Turpin FamilyLarry Nassar and Harvey WeinsteinCoincheck HackingBruce McArthur - Serial KillerAtlanta CyberattackInternational Spy PoisoningsScottsdale Spree KillingsMiles Family MurdersMurder of XXXTentacionPittsburgh Synagogue MassacreMail BombingPlus many, many more. If you are a lover of true crime, and want an anthology to add to your collection, this is the book for you.

    

    From the author of the bestselling true-crime classic 'Fred & Rose', comes the astonishing inside story of the world's biggest cash robbery: the Tonbridge Securitas heist.

     As a child, I was known as "Jessica Pelley." When I was nine, I went to a sleepover at a friend's house for the weekend. While I was away, my entire family was murdered. I would spend the next 30 years fighting, crawling, and clawing my way through the darkness. This wasn't just a national news headline, a cold case, or a true crime show. It was my family. And my life. I was the broken little girl left behind to tell this story. I am now "Jessi," in the pages of this unapologetic memoir, set free. *** JESSI - APRIL 29, 2016 April 29, 1989. A date I cannot forget. Numbers forever seared deep into my soul. It was 27 years ago, today. Jesus. Get a grip, Jessi. They’re just numbers. They don’t mean anything. You’re giving them power over you, again. That’s what I tell myself. But the numbers—those damn numbers—they haunt me. They always will. I cannot escape them. Not now. Not ever. For most people, dates are just numbers on a calendar. No big deal. Random markers of time affixed to the top left corner of small, white squares on a page to depict days filled with choices, chances, and opportunities. At least that’s what they are for the normal people. But I’m no longer one of them. For me, they serve as numeric reminders of the girl I used to be. A tragedy that would irrevocably and mercilessly alter the life of a little girl wearing dark blue jeans, canvas lace-up sneakers, and a white tee shirt, accessorized by prominent coke bottle glasses, her hair hanging in a messy bob. Her life would be forever dismantled. Gone. The moment they told me the words. The ones that I will never forget. At that moment, my life froze and shattered into pieces, splintering like bits of broken glass, dropping down onto the ground around me, like the remnants of a cracked windshield, falling fast before the spinning mind and broken heart of a wide-eyed little girl. Life, as I knew it, was over in that moment. What happened on April 29, 1989, has scarred me forever. A day that started out normally, before it became ensnared in marred memories, tucked between folds of tragedy and darkness. The lingering memories cut straight to the core of the hollow girl left behind. The darkness delivers itself to me, every year, on schedule. Steadily. Greedily. On the 29th day of April. Relentless. Haunting. It taunts the pieces of me that remain. Every single year. I try to lift myself out of the darkness. I tell myself the numbers shouldn’t matter. Not after 27 years have passed. Jessi, It’s just another day. You can do anything you want with it. Don’t slip into the darkness. But not even the voice in my head believes those lies I tell myself. Year after year, my happiness recoils, my thoughts run to a dark place filled with foggy memories and a void that swallows me whole. The door of despair opens and I’m trapped: alone, numb to the bone, emotionally deplete, void of all reality, space, and time. I hate the helplessness as I slip further into that dark place. A place that, long ago, was filled with light. A place where three little girls would sing happy songs, pick flowers, hold hands while skipping through tall blades of grass, and sit down at the dining room table, where they would bow their heads to pray before plates filled with food, in a home filled with laughter. Then it hits me—the life-defining, self-inflicted images of horror—of their final moments—dragging me deep into the darkness.