Thursday, January 31

Warning Graphic: Essex Boys: Rettendon Range Rover murders




It was a blistering cold night back in December 1995—especially in the tiny town of Rettendon, a small village in the Borough of Chelmsford in Essex, England. The borough itself, more specifically, is situated about 8 miles south east of the city of Chelmsford, near the River Crouch.

Dark nights in December however cold, cannot keep the bad-boys inside. Especially when the lure of illegal Drugs is involved.

These particular Drugs were hot enough to keep a couple of top-notch drug barons and their driver away from the cold for quite some time.

Patrick Tate, Craig Rolfe and Tony Tucker, three high-level drug dealers were presented with a deal they couldn't refuse. They were told by Jack Whomes and Michael Steele, to drive to Workhouse Lane, Rettendon.

They did what they were told. While awaiting the drug transfer, the three men, Tate, Rolfe, and Tucker, fiddled around with the radio, smoked cigarettes. Killing time, one might say, if you'll pardon the pun.

They were likely still patiently waiting and "killing time" when numerous shotgun blasts, like fireworks, shattered the mid-winter air. The 12 gauge shotgun was loaded with 00 buckshot and, along with creating some made-made thunder it made an incredible mess as well.

The following day, through a think coating of morning frost, The Range Rover, and its gruesome contents were found.

The two aforementioned men, Whomes and Steele, were tried and convicted for the murders at their Old Bailey trial.

Just another day in paradise.

~

*There is a new movie based on this story. Set for 2013 release it's called: The Fall of the Essex Boys. I'm cagestokerblog@blogspot.ca 


Birthday Bouquet, and a Nice Surprise

My birthday was two days ago, on the 29th. I thought it was going to be a very average Tuesday, but it wasn't that way at all!

First of all, my lovely younger sister, Cara, sent me a bouquet of flowers. Since I had most of the afternoon free, I decided to enjoy them the best way I know how: BY PAINTING THEM!

Here is the start: since flowers are so complicated, and move their little heads and leaves almost as much as the light changes during a plein air painting... I decided to start with one bloom and move to the next, one at a time. I have gotten to a point where I am very comfortable painting portraits and flesh tones, but since I don't paint a lot of flowers, this was quite challenging for me.


After about two hours, I was exhausted, but blissfully happy. Here is the painting at the stopping point. It is no where near finished; I plan on working on it some more today.


The big birthday surprise came later in the evening, when my hubby took me out to dinner and then took a detour... to Guitar Center. He let me pick out a digital piano! Now, for those of you who may not know this... music has been a huge part of my life ever since I started taking piano lessons at 8 years old. I minored in music in college, and played classical piano all the way up until graduating. At that point, though, I was forced to quit playing regularly - not because I was committed to being a full-time artist (which was true...), but simply because I didn't have a piano of my own. Five years later, I am finally going to get back into it! I am SOOOOO excited to pull out the Chopin, Haydn, Rachmaninoff, and Debussy again. Thank you, Steve! :-) :-)

ACCESS DENIED..


Leaked Uncensored Bollywood Pictures : Gihana Khan & Sachin Joshi



Ten Bucks Says The Upside Down Guy is Bald...


Wednesday, January 30

Morbid Reality: Something is Wrong w/ Aunt Diane Schuler





The demanding east sunset shone into husband Dan Shuler's eye lids, prying them open.

Mr. Shuler, a night watchman by trade, would be up in an instant, fully awake.

Now—with the guttural sound of bullfrogs calling for mates still filling his dreams, he made coffee for himself and his wife, who remained in a snore-filled slumber.

It had been another great weekend at Hunter Lake Campground in Parksville, New York, and now 'Danny' was more than ready to get back to town. First though, he had to get the little wife, Diane Schuler, and their daughter, and his two nieces, fully awake. And then he would be gone..leaving them all behind.

Approximately 9:30 AM on Sunday, July 26, 2009, 36-year-old Diane Schuler left the Hunter Lake Campground driving a red 2003 Ford Windstar.

Riding along with Mrs. Schuler were her 5-year-old son and 2-year-old daughter, and her brother's three daughters (ages 8, 7, and 5).

Daniel had not waited for her. He was in a hurry, apparently—and had left the campground earlier in the morning in a separate vehicle. A co-owner of the campground later said that both Dan and Diane appeared to be sober, and it didn't look as though they had been arguing. 

On the way to West Babylon, New York, Schuler stopped at a McDonald's fast-food restaurant and a gas station in Liberty, New York.

While at the gas station, my Theory is that she attempted to buy an over-the-counter map, but the store did not sell any.

This is were the plot thickens. 

My theory, is that Shuler was lost.

Her head was completely turned in the wrong direction—and if you ask any Woodsman, they'll tell you it's a panic-attack like situation which trumps all others. You'll not believe anything. Not your GPS nor compass. And you may even toss them both away.

So, now, with the wrong direction logged firmly in her mind, Schuler left in what she felt was the right direction. She left the MacDonald restaurant and gas station in liberty just after 11 AM, traveling along Route 17/Interstate 86 and Interstate 87, entering the service area, and crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge, heading east.

Witnesses later reported seeing a red minivan driving aggressively on Route 17/Interstate 86 and Interstate 87, including aggressively tailgating, flashing headlights, honking the horn, and straddling two lanes At 11:37 AM.

Schuler stopped alongside the highway and called Warren Hance, her brother and the father of the three nieces in Schuler's car. She reportedly told him that they were being delayed by traffic.

She was lost. No doubt in my mind

According to a police report, Schuler was next seen at approximately 11:45 AM by the side of the road with her hands on her knees, as if vomiting.

She was seen again in the same position a short time later, north of the Ramapo rest stop.

At 1:33 PM, two drivers called 911 after noticing Schuler's van edging onto the wrong (northbound) exit ramp of the Taconic State Parkway near Briarcliff Manor, New York.

Within the next minute, four more 911 calls were placed by motorists who reported that a car was traveling the wrong way down the Taconic Parkway.

Then the end came, swiftly and tragically.

At approximately 1:35 PM, Diane Schuler's red minivan traveled south for 1.7 miles in the parkway's northbound passing lane before colliding head-on with a 2004 Chevrolet TrailBlazer, which then struck a 2002 Chevrolet Tracker head on.

Schuler, her daughter, and three of her nieces were dead at the scene of the crash, along with the three men in the TrailBlazer, 81-year-old Michael Bastardi, his 49-year-old son Guy, and their friend, 74-year-old Dan Longo.

The two occupants of the Tracker suffered only minor injuries. Schuler's severely injured third niece and Schuler's 5-year-old son Bryan were taken to local area hospitals, where the niece died later that day.

Bryan is the sole passenger of Schuler's vehicle to survive, suffering from broken bones and severe head trauma.

According to all reports, he is doing well. 

I'm cagestoker on blogger 


He Wants To Score One MoreT ime Before Game Over


underwear fail lol



Not Thirsty Anymore


Salute Fail


Underwear Shopping With Girlfriend lol



Tuesday, January 29

She Fell in Fail..


Kim Kardashian Fail With Epic Dress...


Ok Mom Lets Go...Kid Fail


Graphic Crime Scene Photos: Female Body found Murdered



No matter how graphic in nature, Photo Journalism is an art-form and a form of free-expression.

More importantly, it's a necessary tool in the education and sharing of both the good and evil events which unfortunately take place on this planet of ours on a daily basis.


Imagine being a small-town Brazilian resident. And upon awakening, eating your breakfast, and then going outside to enjoy the sunshine, find the body of a young dead women lying in the roadway.

This past Saturday morning, for residents of Macarani—a tiny town in the drug-infested North-East region of Brazil—this was their personal reality, and a sight that will likely haunt their dreams forever.

20-year-old Veronica Santos, just out of her teens, was killed and stuffed inside a large pink shopping bag—then found exposed, in a fetal position, along a dirt-covered road.

A mother of two, Santos was known for being deeply involved in the local drug-trafficking trade.

She was stabbed and beaten to death.

Santos will feel never again feel any pain.

For the two young children who are now left behind to carry-on without their mother, however, the pain, emotional trauma, and memories of this event will undoubtedly last a lifetime.


"Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword" (Matthew 26:52, King James Version)

*I'm @cagestokerblog on Twitter. **Photos courtesy of dar.com

You are doing it wrong...Fail


Is That Her Dad....??


how girls look when they are dancing dirty


Monday, January 28

Sunday, January 27

Crime Scene Photos: Forty Whacks: The Lizzie Borden Axe-Murder Mystery


"Upon inspection of the victims it seems that Mrs. Borden had been slain by the use of some sharp and terrible instrument, inflicting upon her head eighteen blows, thirteen of them crushing through the skull; and below stairs, lying upon the sofa, was Mr. Borden's dead and mutilated body, with eleven strokes upon the head, four of them crushing the skull."~ George D. Robinson, attorney for Lizzie Borden
~

The date was August 4, 1892.

The scene of the crime was Fall River, Massachusetts, more specifically, 92 Second Street, home of the affluent Borden family.

According to newspaper reports from the time, the day was agonizingly humid.

The "Dog Days" of summer they used to call it.

Days when the summer air gets so hot and humid and weighted that one gets an energy-sapping feeling—and the only desire is to seek out a cool spot in which to sleep.

At eleven o'clock in the morning the temperature had already reached into its highest double digits—and still climbing. 
 
Some say the heat can make one crazy.

Bridget ("Maggie") Sullivan, the Borden family's maid, soaked with sweat after washing the windows from the outside, suddenly heard a primal scream coming from inside the home which caused the hair on her arms to stand to attention and her adrenal glands to spring to life.

It was the youngest daughter in the Borden family, thirty-three-year-old Lizzie: 

"Maggie, come down! Come down quick; Father's dead; somebody came in and killed him." 

The body of Andrew J Borden, Lizzie's father, lay downstairs on a sofa—nearly decapitated.

Upstairs, the body of his wife, Lizzie's stepmother, both pictured above, was also found dead—with strangely similar mortal head wounds.

With an attention-getting front page headline made from the finest of graphic bold print, the local newspaper, called the Fall River Herald, didn't waste a second spreading the news throughout New England:

"Shocking Crime: A Venerable Citizen and his Aged Wife Hacked to Pieces in their Home."

The news reporters who visited the gory crime-scene tried their best to paint a gruesome portrait, made from their finest metaphors and adjectives:

"Over the left temple a wound six by four had been made as if it had been pounded with the dull edge of an axe. The left eye had been dug out and a cut extended the length of the nose. The face was hacked to pieces and the blood covered the man's shirt. The room was in order and there were no signs of a scuffle of any kind."

The coroner along with help from the newspapers, local police, and physicians eventually concluded that the crime was not committed by an intruder—as was previously thought—but by someone inside the family home. More specifically a woman.

Police additionally stated they had also found a possible murder weapon, a hatchet, located in the basement—but it contained no blood or other evidence.

Stated the physician:" 'Hacking' is almost always a positive sign of a crime committed by a woman who is unconscious of what she is doing."

So, mostly due to giving only vague answers to police, coupled with a bad relationship with her stepmother, Lizzie Borden, on August 11, only seven days after the crime was committed, was arrested for double homicide.

In the end however, regardless of the famous Lizzie Borden rhyme, Ms Borden was acquitted of all charges against her. She remained in Fall River for the rest of her natural life until her death from Pneumonia on June 1, 1927. She was 66.

This story, the Lizzie Borden Murder Mystery, much like the Lindbergh baby case, is still wrought with controversy. And, for the most part, remains unsolved.

*The above article was written by me, @cagestokerblog, with quotes from Tru-TV.com

"Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother forty whacks.
And when she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty-one." 

~ Famous Rhyme



Saturday, January 26

Major Crime: Warning Graphic Video: The Shot that Killed JFK


One of the most notable of perhaps all history's lone-gunman was a fame-seeker in his mid-twenties named Lee Harvey Oswald.

Even after the events of September 11, 2001, Oswald's act, and the chain of events leading up to his act, are forged in American History as one of the worst single tragedies ever.

Oswald sat quietly on one of the upper floors of a dust-filled Dallas, Texas, school-book warehouse ..ate a nice lunch..and then patiently awaited the arrival of his trophy; which, in this case, was a large motorcade carrying the President of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

Once spotting the black limo coming head-on down the now-famous Dealy Plaza, Oswald likely put down his half-eaten sandwich, grabbed his crude-looking weapon—an Italian-made 6.5 mm., army rifle—and slid open the window he had been peering out of for hours before-hand.

Sticking the barrel of the gun out into the bright noon-day sunshine, Oswald, who was said to be crack shot, likely squinted, then squeezed off two rounds—missing the entire motorcade completely with the first bullet.

But next—perhaps after steadying himself for a second try, the little man with the rusty rifle and fogged-up sights, managed to hit Kennedy low, near the throat. A bullet which is said to have traveled downward, and through the body of the passenger, who happened to be the Governor of Texas, John Connolly.

Finally—taking a deep-breath...and then holding it, Oswald's finger squeezed gently on the trigger one last time.

Finding it's mark, the Carcano rifle bullet struck the front of the President's skull dead-on; completely removing nearly a quarter of it with a grotesque burst/spray of blood, bone, and brain-matter.

The truth behind Oswald's intentions will never be known, or told, as he was then murdered himself by a nightclub owner and gang-member named Jack Ruby while being escorted to court.

 "America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable." ~ Hunter S. Thompson

I'm @cagestokerblog 


Friday, January 25

Heart of Contentment

Yesterday temperatures reached almost 80 degrees in the Dallas area, and as soon as I could, I grabbed my plein air supplies and dashed out to the nearby nature preserve to get some sun (and maybe do a painting!).




I realized, for that blissful hour and a half, that that was the first time in weeks and weeks that I felt peaceful and fully content (and I didn't even care whether or not my painting turned out!). Maybe I've been suffering from cabin fever... I don't know. But at the end of my little painting session, I wondered how I might carry that feeling of creative contentment back into my studio, and maintain it every day, no matter the circumstances. I've been feeling so unsettled lately, restless. Could it be that I just needed some fresh air?? It's probably more than that.

In my sister's apartment, she has a sheet of paper taped to her bathroom mirror that lists "The Three Cs of Contentment." They say, "Don't compete, don't compare, don't complain." I am not particularly competitive, but I will confess that I often find myself inadvertently comparing myself to other artists, especially when I spend too much time on Facebook (for more on this, see my FASO article from last summer). This is wrong. I have been given this life, these talents, and this set of circumstances, to glorify God in a way that is unique from anyone else. If I can simply remember that I paint for the joy of creating - that God smiles down when He sees His children happily using the gifts He has given them - everything else should fade away and no longer matter.

Since I'm confessing things in this post... I came across this the other day and it's blatant accuracy made me laugh out loud. I'm especially bad about those last two (just ask my husband!). Well, I guess there's always room for improvement. :-)

by Lauren Purje

Wednesday, January 16

Warning Graphic Crime Scene Photo: Is Charles Manson Innocent?


"Just because you're convicted in a court room doesn't mean you're guilty of something." Charles Manson


The horrific crime scene photos above show the sustained violence of a notorious group of mass-murdering 60's cult-followers known as the 'Manson Family.'

The founder of the family or cult-leader as we would call him today, was Charles Manson—born Charles Milles Manson on November 12, 1934.

Manson, by the way, has never 'directly' caused any harm to anyone.

A juvenile delinquent who seemed doomed from birth, Manson's mother was Kathleen Maddox, a down-and-out prostitute from Cincinnati, Ohio, who, when he was born, tried her best to give her son away to anyone who wanted him.

In and out of Juvenile halls, county jails and state prisons most of his life Manson ultimately became the veritable ring leader of one of the worst mass-murdering sprees of all time.

Manson, after listening to, and becoming obsessed with, the Beatles 'White Album' which was released in late 1968, then stated to anyone who would listen that he believed that the world would end via a 'Racial War' - blacks against whites, one which he subsequently nicknamed 'Helter Skelter' after a song from the album.

With the help of drugs, sex and other manners of persuasion, Manson began getting groups of listeners. He also gained a group of disciple-like-followers who were mostly teenage-runaway-girls looking for a father figure: any father figure.

 Manson then, on a hot August night in the California desert in last year of the 60's—with the Beatles White Album as his "Holy Bible" of sorts—did eventually convince a small group of extremists to go-off and break into the home of a nearby famous Hollywood director named Roman Polanski at Benedict Canyon.

Geographically speaking, it's a picturesque area west of Hollywood in the Santa Monica Mountains which overlooks Beverly Hills and Bel Air.

Polanski was not at home, but his pregnant wife and movie star Sharon Tate was there and greeted what would now be called a home invasion.

Tate was entertaining guests, namely millionaire-coffee-mogul, Abigail Folger, her boyfriend Wojciech Frykowski, hairstylist Jay Sebring, and an 18-year old man named Steven Parent.

What happened next was something right out of any of the worst Hollywood slasher films you can think of. The innocent victims were stripped bare, stabbed, shot, hung, and had their blood smeared and painted across the walls and appliances of their own home. Spelling out words such as "Pig" and "War" and of course, "Helter Skelter."

Although Manson was proven to have no part in any of it, he and followers, Susan Atkins, Charles "Tex" Watson, and Patricia Krenwinkel, were eventually convicted and given the death sentence.

However, on April 24, 1972, the Supreme Court of California abolished the death penalty. Manson and his followers were spared from execution and had their sentences commuted to life. 

Manson, now in his late 70's, is incarcerated at Corcoran State Prison, located in Corcoran, California. He has been behind bars since the summer of '69, with no sign of ever getting out.

I'm @cagestokerblog on Twitter.

Tuesday, January 15

Crime Scene Photos: Murdered Jody Arias Victim Travis Alexander


"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."

That famous quote from "The Mourning Bride" which was written in 1697 by William Congreve seems to sum up the latest high-profile true crime case. One which has elements of both the OJ Simpson trial of the mid nineties, and the May, 2011, Casey Anthony, not-guilty fiasco.

Obviously yet another one of those extreme but all-too-common murderously-dysfunctional-relationship by-products that we true-crime-fans know and love so well, this is the one where extreme religiousness is combined with a great deal of uncommon sexual frustration.

Suddenly, without warning, one of the relationship participants is kicked to the curb and abandoned.

They can no-longer sleep or eat.. they become obsessed with the person who has left them.

This is where they usually jump or fall into a depression so deeply and darkly that they'll be willing make a deal with the devil in order to feel better about themselves and their current situation.

So they then begin to rationalize with themselves. They say: “If I can't have you, then no one else will either. I will end your life," as we witnessed in the OJ Simpson case.

This is the case of Jodi Arias. A 32-year-old Monterey County woman who has admitted to murdering her ex-lover, Travis Victor Alexander, known to his friends as "T-Dogg," also of Riverside, California, in an act of self defense. Far from the truth that defense is almost an impossibility.

This case literally has the proverbial smoking gun. A confession and crime-scene-photos taken accidentally in real-time.

My theory is that Arias went to his house with full intentions of getting back together with "T-Dogg," or else. But he only wanted sex, as we men so often do, and then he likely told her to "get lost."

Arias immediately began feeling those old familiar stabbing wounds to her heart strings, and didn't like the feeling. So she decided to pull out her new best friend and back-up-plan: her gun.

I also would like to point out that regardless of the fact that Aries does not have what society might deem"the typical look of a monstrous, cold, callous, calculating killer," the same primal-instinct of survival, which lies dormant inside all of us, will tell us we should kill or be killed.

For anybody who has taken anger-management treatment, myself included, know that this primitive area of the brain lies hidden deep inside us and is exactly the same no matter what the exterior may look like.

We all share this primal instinct. Only some of us pretend to hide it better than others.

Bang! She shot Alexander in the face, immobilizing him—and then finished him off by stabbing him multiple times. She has no idea why, but she feels a tremendous relief. In fact, she's filmed at the police station smiling and giddy. 

Jennifer Willmott, a death penalty-qualified defense attorney has been selected to represent Arias.

Stay tuned.

I'm @cagestokerblog




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