Jacob became one popular dude during my sophomore year of high school, two years ago. In the middle of the year, he just showed up. His family had moved him away from their old home, but his reputation somehow got loose in the hallways.
At the age of twelve, Jacob had been kidnapped from his home in the middle of the night. His parents had been apparently drugged by an unknown person, and their son had been stolen. No one even called the police until the parents woke up. No witnesses, fingerprints, ransom notes, nothing.
A Guide to Follow All True Crime Upcoming Projects on TV
(Updated on July 31, 2017)
Format: Scripted limited series.
Summary: This show focuses on the use of a new way of profiling that the FBI used to catch the Unabomber Ted Kaczynski, who is played by Paul Bettany. Sam Worthington plays FBI agent Jim Fitzgerald and Jane Lynch plays Attorney General Janet Reno. See the trailer here.
Wanda told Clint that he was pulling his punches. This means he wasn’t hitting Natasha as hard as he could have.
All three of them know what he’s capable of doing in hand to hand combat. But Clint also knew that in his right mind, he’d never be able to hurt Natasha the way he did under Loki’s control, he couldn’t allow himself to. And Wanda caught that.
Talking to a reporter in 2013, kidnapping victim and rape survivor Elizabeth Smart recollects the conversation she had with her abductor shortly after he led her into the hills behind her family’s home.
At just 14 years old, Elizabethwas abducted from her Utah home one night in 2002 after a man broke in and forced her out of bed. The intruder warned her that if she attempted to make a noise, he would kill her family while they slept. Not wanting to endanger her loved ones, Elizabeth bravely followed his instructions and was led out of the house at knife point. They then walked through the hills behind the home and into dense woodland, and it was during this time that Elizabeth came to recognise her captor. Just months prior to her kidnap, Elizabeth and her mum had given $5 to this man after they saw him begging on the streets, and they even offered him some work. His name was Brian David Mitchell.
Mitchell took her to a temporary camp built deep into the woods, which is where she met his co-conspirator for the first time: Wanda Ileen Barzee. Elizabeth was led into a tent, where Mitchell began performing a wedding ceremony and announced that the young girl was now his wife. Proceeding this, he pushed her onto the ground and raped her. For the next 9 months until her discovery, Elizabeth was moved across the country while being starved, raped and forced to consume illicit substances on what she described as an almost daily basis.
In March 2003, after convincing her captors to return to Utah, Elizabeth Smart was finally rescued. She had even persuaded her captors to hitch-hike in the hopes that somebody would recognise her as a missing person. One citizen did recognise Mitchell and Barzee suspiciously escorting a young child dressed in robes and a veil. Police immediately responded to the call, and the kidnappers were caught and subsequently arrested. Brian Mitchell, now 63 years old, spent 6 six years in a psychiatric institution and is now serving a life sentence as a federal prisoner. Wanda Barzee, now 70 years old, was given 15 years for her involvement.
”Hey,“ she whispered, surprised by the sound of her own voice. "Hey Lizzie,” he echoed, and she slightly bit the inside of her cheek at her nickname, “London suits you well apparently. You look –gorgeous.” Instinctively, she touched her freshly accepted engagement ring, the metal turning cold around her finger. She twirled it, toyed with it, the diamond all of sudden alien and heavy. 5 years since their last conversation at Heathrow and here they were again, in London, both working in that financial field they had coveted and finally reached. “Thanks. And you Henry, you look–” ‘Handsome’ was the word crossing her mind. Years enduring the Wales’ weather improved again his presence. He became a charismatic man. “–you look good as well.” His lips smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Congrats by the way. When is it planned for?” “What are -Oh, we -we haven’t set a date yet.” His wistful smile, again. “Really? I couldn’t be that patient…”
Hello! So here's something that popped into my head. What if instead of chaining him to the mast, Lizzie pushed jack into the longboat? How do you think he would've reacted to her taking his place in the locker?
Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring your other ask that was similar to
this, I’ve just been puzzling it out. As much as I love the idea of the grand gesture,
it wouldn’t have worked. The Kraken was after Jack. It would not stop until it
devoured him. So putting him in the
lifeboat would have just endangered the remaining crew, and Lizzy knew that. I
don’t think she would have gone to the locker, she would have just died.
Furthermore, part of the reason why the scene in which Lizzy
chains Jack to the mast is so powerful is because Elizabeth, even
though she is fascinated by him, lusts for him, and some of us argue loves him, is NOT willing to make herself a sacrifice for Jack. She makes him pay
the debt he owes in a way that no one else in these movies ever manages to. She
saves herself and the rest of the crew. She
does what she has to do.
In this time period women were expected to endure the fates
men placed upon them, to be pious and endure in a saintly fashion all the
indignities that came with being a woman in 18th century western
culture. But Elizabeth put her foot down and said no, I will not be a martyr.
She did the hard thing, DESPITE her
feelings for Jack, and his for her—and he was proud of her for it.
There was such a backlash about Elizabeth’s “betrayal” of
Jack back in the day, and I sense that in the fandom even now. But as much as I
love Jack, and well, that’s A LOT—I’ve
never seen it that way. Though this is a wildly fantastical story about pirates
in the 1700s, the essence of this tale rings true in so many ways to so many of
us in this modern day. So this is what I say to all you young girls out there.
1) Don’t ever let
them leave you on that fucking island.
2) Don’t let them dupe you into paying a debt that’s not
3) And always
know it is your RIGHT to do what you
have to do to see to your own well being. The sea is full of monsters, but you
are not Kraken food.
I do not think that I want to lie down in your crowded bed for bouts of therapeutic lovemaking. Loving you, I see no beauty in lopsided true love. It really is in sorrow & not anger that I say: I do not want you any more because I simply cannot bear it. It isn’t only the unfaithfulness. It’s the loneliness, the weeks and months of being alone, really cut off from you, receiving perhaps a postcard saying I fuck you as you pause for breath in fucking somebody else. It would have been better if I had married before I met you, because then you could have given me a few months of fulfilling attentions which is all, apparently, that women need, & then I could have returned to the someone who, possibly, would have cared for me. For you do not want the responsibility even of love & by this I do not mean either money or guilt.
I realize that if you had cared about me the small necessary amount you would not have left me alone with so much pain, but would have contrived to find some other way of doing what you had to. This is the depths & the final & the end of my misery & degradation & if I say goodbye to you now I will be able to keep from being bitter because I am so grateful to you for your last few moments of frankness.
Dearest George, I will NOT give up the belief in true love or if you will romantic love—IT IS possible I KNOW. I never wanted anyone since you. IT IS possible to cometh to rest in someone—but you have not evidently had enough pleasure and power. Maybe I want the middle-aged things now. I’ve had my fuck, but I’ve lost my love. My womb won’t tear me to pieces now, maybe, but my heart certainly will. Goodbye. Elizabeth.
but fp is so upset with himself that jug joined the serpents. he knows if he wasn’t in this mess that his son would still be at rhs with his beautifully smart girlfriend elizabeth cooper. maybe he’d still be a bad dad but his son would be in a somewhat better place than he is now.
“And Abel is her father?” JJ questioned, trying to inject levity into the question where she knew deep down there was none.
Y/N nodded softly, a small smile upon her face. That smile nearly broke Spencer as he stood outside and watched helplessly. “How did you meet him?”
“We met at church,” she said. Spencer’s mouth dropped. Y/N wasn’t religious at all. This was a planted story. He swallowed the bile that had formed in his throat. Only the house in which she’d lived for the past three years truly understood what had happened to Y/N to make her believe these things. He went numb as JJ and Y/N spoke - the image of his beloved wife being brutalized, forced to turn to a fabricated story for relief and survival, freezing him in place. “He approached me and said he thought I was pretty. That he didn’t normally go to church at that time so maybe God had pushed the two of us together. We fell in love quickly and had Ilaria.”
“But you’re not married?” JJ asked, trying to understand what religion if any the household subscribed to.
Y/N shook her head and smiled. “No. Abel has many lovers because we believe that the most important thing is bringing more children into the world - bring them to God as well.”
Spencer sunk in place, his eyes no longer peering into the window toward the woman he loved. His legs were too heavy, the myriad possibilities of what she went through weighing him down. He could hear the strain in JJ’s voice, trying so hard to choke back tears, as she continued to ask her questions. “How many lovers does Abel have? How many children?”
“He has three right now,” she said, the names of the other three women falling off her tongue, “But until you took us out of our home, we had another one joining us. But you didn’t give us a chance to get to know her.”
“Her name is Monica,” JJ said, turning her attention directly toward Y/N and looking into her eyes as much as Y/N would allow. “And she didn’t go willingly. She was taken off the streets by Abel and one of the other women…just like you were.”
Spencer pulled himself to see if Y/N was in there at all, but she didn’t seem to be. He swallowed a sob while Hotch patted him on the back.
Y/N’s head snapped up toward JJ’s. “I just told you, we met in church. Abel loves me.” The force with which she believed her own words was causing her lips to quiver, the tears behind her eyes to release themselves with or without the help of her own body. “He loves us. You’re trying to turn me against. He said that you’d do that.”
Spencer turned around, ready to walk out of the room. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand here and listen to this. “Hotch, what am I going to do? She thinks he loves her. He got her pregnant. He told her to fear me, and he prepared her for law enforcement. How am I supposed to get her back?” The heated tears flowed freely, his hands over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Hotch replied, “But people have come back from this before - Jaycee Lee Dugard, Elizabeth Smart. It sounds like Y/N has Stockholm syndrome too. The good thing is that we have Abel Mitchell for two counts of murder. He is not getting out, which means she’s free of him and can start to heal.”
Running his hands through his hair, he said nothing to Hotch and returned to the window. “Do you know what Abel did?” JJ asked, her voice moving from soft to stern, her eyes harder than before. “Do you remember these two women?” She pulled out two photos - one of a late-20s brunette with wavy hair down to her shoulders and a beautiful heart-shaped face, the other of another late-20s woman, this one with blond hair and blue eyes. Next to the pictures of the two beauties lay pictures of them on slabs, devoid of color, their skin pale and sunken, the life in their eyes snuffed out.
“That’s Eva and Bethany,” Y/N said, recognition flashing followed by a hint of fear. “What happened to them?”
“They were murdered. Neither of them could have children. They both miscarried twice and Abel killed them.” JJ was desperate to break through even just a little bit. She was Spencer’s wife, but she’d also been her friend. Seeing her like this, having to talk to her like this was making her heart ache.
“No!” Y/N screamed, getting up from the chair and hitting it back into the table. “No! He wouldn’t do that! Abel is a good man! You’re trying to frame him!”
JJ got up as well and glanced back toward where she knew Spencer was standing, her look conveying what she was feeling when her words could not. “We aren’t, Y/N,” JJ said. “We have proof. Abel’s DNA is underneath their fingernails. His prints are on their necks.” She placed her own hands around her neck. Something about that motion pushed Y/N over the brink.
“No! No! No! No! My name is Rebekah!” Over and over again, she smacked at her head to the point where JJ, Morgan and Hotch had to hold her arms to keep her from hurting herself further. “Abel wouldn’t do that! He loves me! He loves me! He loves me! Let go of me! Get your hands off me! I want to see Abel! Where is Abel?”
The screeching that came out of her mouth could be heard throughout the entire bullpen. She screamed his name repeatedly until she couldn’t anymore, until Spencer was certain she’d torn at her vocal chords. “I’m going to bring you back to me, I swear,” he said out loud to himself. “I promise.”
With the palms of his hands, Spencer wiped away his tears and turned from the window, unable to see her screaming and crying and pleading to see the man that took her away from him over and over again - the man who likely beat and raped her day in and day out until she turned to this fabricated story to survive with some semblance of sanity intact. Instead, he walked with purpose, the people before him parting like the Red Sea as he stormed across the bullpen to the room Abel was being kept in.
Spencer couldn’t talk to his wife for fear of breaking her further, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to interrogate this bastard. Rossi realized where he was going and followed him. “Kid, I’m coming in with you. You can’t go in alone.”
“Fine,” he said hotly, his eyes never breaking their gaze from the door that shielded him from the man who’d taken his wife away. “But I’m going in.”
As he pulled open the door and walked inside, a skin-crawling grin was painted across his face. “She’s asking for me, huh? How does that feel, Agent?”
I am lonely. I cannot be a female saint. I want the one I want. He is the one I picked out from the world. I picked him out in cold deliberation. But the passion was not cold. It kindled the world. Love, love, give my heart ease, put your arms around me, give my heart ease.
Elizabeth Smart, By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept