Warrant Of Arrest Quotes

When you stepped on Jared’s toes, you’d get punched in the gut. If you stepped on Jax’s toes, he’d hack into the county database and issue a warrant for your arrest.

She said, “My people of Oxford, you are suffering from the administration of Hugh le Despencer the Elder and his son called Hugh le Despencer the Younger! I have issued warrants for their arrest and bringing to trial for crimes of High Treason against both men and their partner in crime called Edmund Fitzalan! I urge all of you to inform my soldiers of the where-abouts of these men!

You took my Lotus!” Sissy choked on her champagne, and Ronnie started looking for the exits or law enforcement with arrest warrants. Lord, what is the statute of limitations again?

Blah, blah, blah, regret to inform you that DI Gray has tendered his resignation; blah, blah, blah; opportunity to reward performance; blah, blah, blah; suggestions by next Wednesday. McPherson had scribbled, "BEATTIE?" in the margin in red biro. Idiot. Logan stuck the memo back in the drawer. Detective Sergeant Beattie couldn't arrest his own backside with three patrol cars and a search warrant.

What are these?” Meg looked at the rings of keys in Nate’s hand, deliberately furrowed her brow. “Those would be keys.” “Why do you need so many keys?” “Because there are so many locks? Is this a quiz?” He jingled them in his palm while she continued to give him a sunny, innocent smile. “Meg, you don’t even lock your doors half the time. What are all these keys about?” “Well… There are times a person needs to get into a place, and hey, that place is locked. Then she would need a key.” “And this place that, hey, is locked, wouldn’t be the property of that person. Would that be correct?” “Techincally. But no man is an island, and it takes a village, and so on. We’re all one in the Zen universe.” “So these would be Zen keys?” “Exactly. Give them back.” “I don’t think so.” He closed his fist around them. “You see, even in the Zen universe I’d hate to arrest my wife for unlawful entry.” “I’m not your wife yet, buddy. Did you have a search warrant for those?” “They were in plain sight. No warrant necessary.” “Gestapo.” “Delinquent.

We cannot incarcerate ourselves out of addiction. Addiction is a medical crisis that—when it comes to nonviolent offenders—warrants medical interventions, not incarceration. Decades later, data unequivocally illustrates that this war has been a massive failure. It has not only failed to reduce violent crime, but arrest rates—throughout its tenure—have continuously ascended even when crime rates have descended.

I see,” says Elizabeth, lips pursing. “And what happens if I still choose to say WPC? Will there be a warrant for my arrest?” “No, but I’ll think a bit less of you,” says Donna. “Because it’s a really simple thing to do, and it’s more respectful to me.” “Damn, checkmate, okay,” says Elizabeth, unpursing her lips. “Thank you,” says Donna.

Great. So if a dragon and a fairy show up at the castle, what the hell am I supposed to do with that information? Put out a warrant for their arrest?" "No,

how the powers of government were being improperly used through improper warrants of arrest—how it was unconstitutional to stop a person on the freeway and arrest them.

LYNCHED BECAUSE THE JURY ACQUITTED HIM The entire system of the judiciary of this country is in the hands of white people. To this add the fact of the inherent prejudice against colored people, and it will be clearly seen that a white jury is certain to find a Negro prisoner guilty if there is the least evidence to warrant such a finding. Meredith Lewis was arrested in Roseland, La., in July of last year. A white jury found him not guilty of the crime of murder wherewith he stood charged.

On NCIS or White Collar, I’d forcefully persuade a reluctant judge to issue a search warrant and then persuade my equally reluctant boss to give me access to a portable X-ray machine, and then I’d find Sebastian’s body and make an arrest—after a near-death escape from Nabiyev, whom I’d overpower despite his bigger size and more massive gun power. I wished I were a TV detective.

There’s an arrest warrant out for her. Did you even consider taking her to the Commander?” “No.” “Why not?” Valek didn’t try to hide his disbelief. “Killing isn’t the only solution to a problem. Or has that been yourformula?” “ My formula! Excuse me, Mr. Assassin, while I laugh as I remember my history lessons on how to deal with a tyrannical monarch by killing him and his family.” Valek flashed me a dangerous look.

I have a warrant for your arrest on a matter a few years back

Names didn't matter; names were for toe tags and arrest warrants, not for revenge.

for whom arrest warrants were outstanding. He sought the name Nathan Palmer—and began to make a list of curious facts.

The judge, for instance, who signed the warrant for Charlie’s arrest that last time he went into remand is still on the bench.

This is all very well, sir,” he said to the officer, “but this warrant contains no other name than mine, and so you have no right to expose thus to the public gaze the lady with whom I was travelling when you arrested me. I must beg of you to order your assistants to allow this carriage to drive on; then take me where you please, for I am ready to go with you.

Roses. Elvira. He had warned her grimly that failure to check herself into a clinic within two weeks would result in his dogging her trail with warrants until he had evidence to effect her arrest. Yet

A white police officer had entered a black women's home without a warrant, searching for a suspect. When she protested, he beat and arrested her, dragging her from her home though she wasn't fully dressed. When a black soldier saw this and tried to intervene to defend the woman, the white policeman pistol-whipped the black soldier, seriously injuring him. The men of the beaten soldier's regiment, learning no consequences would befall the white policeman, felt abandoned by white police and army officials. They saw the abuse as a last straw in a long string of injustices. So the marched into the city. Soldiers and civilians died in the shooting that followed

At his computer, he accessed the National Crime Information Center website and went to the list of people for whom arrest warrants were outstanding. He sought the name Nathan Palmer—and began to make a list of curious facts.

Fourth Amendment, which requires a judge-issued warrant for an arrest; the Fifth Amendment, which requires a grand jury indictment before a person is held for trial; and the Sixth Amendment, which says that a person can be imprisoned only after conviction by a jury based on proof beyond a reasonable doubt.

Rudy Giuliani, the president’s former personal attorney, was now living in the Julian Assange suite at the Ecuadorean embassy in London. While changing planes at Heathrow, Rudy was tipped off that the Justice Department had issued a warrant for his arrest for injurious punditry and pernicious legal representation.

The trial, despite the subserviency of the court to the Nazi authorities, cast a great deal of suspicion on Goering and the Nazis, but it came too late to have any practical effect. For Hitler had lost no time in exploiting the Reichstag fire to the limit.   On the day following the fire, February 28, he prevailed on President Hindenburg to sign a decree “for the Protection of the People and the State” suspending the seven sections of the constitution which guaranteed individual and civil liberties. Described as a “defensive measure against Communist acts of violence endangering the state,” the decree laid down that:      Restrictions on personal liberty, on the right of free expression of opinion, including freedom of the press; on the rights of assembly and association; and violations of the privacy of postal, telegraphic and telephonic communications; and warrants for house searchers, orders for confiscations as well as restrictions on property, are also permissible beyond the legal limits otherwise prescribed.   In addition, the decree authorized the Reich government to take over complete power in the federal states when necessary and imposed the death sentence for a number of crimes, including “serious disturbances of the peace” by armed persons.8   Thus with one stroke Hitler was able not only to legally gag his opponents and arrest them at his will but, by making the trumped-up Communist threat “official,” as it were, to throw millions of the middle class and the peasantry into a frenzy of fear that unless they voted for National Socialism at the elections a week hence, the Bolsheviks might take over.

A 20 year old woman in Houston, Texas, was arrested at Lamar University, after posting a tweet. The message on Twitter was bragging about how she still had a warrant in Pearland, Texas, and how the "pigs" would absolutely never be able to catch her.   Since her full name (Mahogany Mason-Kelly, hardly a common name) and her school information was easily found on her Twitter account, she was quickly arrested. It was then found that she had originally given the police officers her sister's name during the arrest.

With most crimes, police generally do not arrest suspects without a warrant unless they personally witness it. Yet the mob justice surrounding domestic violence has brought the innovation of mandatory arrest, even when it is not clear who has committed the deed or even that any deed has been committed at all. One prosecutor in Hamilton County, Ohio, notes that this is “turning law-abiding citizens into criminals.” Judith Mueller of the Women’s Center in Vienna, Virginia, who had lobbied for the mandatory arrest law, says, “I am stunned, quite frankly, because that was not the intention of the law. It was to protect people from predictable violent assaults, where a history occurred, and the victim was unable for whatever reason to press charges. . . . It’s disheartening to think that it could be used punitively and frivolously.

Like many in his generation, Billy had grown up playing first-person-shooter video games. He decided to take that experience a few steps further and resolved to join a SWAT team and shoot bad guys for real. He visited the local police station to find out what requirements and training were necessary to become a SWAT team member. He found out that the process was a lot more involved than he expected. He first needed to attend a police academy and become a police officer. Afterwards he would have to work his way onto a SWAT team over time. There were no guarantees. During his visit to the police station he learned that many SWAT members were former Marine Corps snipers. During that same visit the cops ran Billy’s plates through their criminal database and learned that he had outstanding warrants for speeding tickets. They unceremoniously arrested him and tossed him into jail.

Mr. Watson inquired who saw the assault committed. Master Hugh told him it was done in Mr. Gardner's ship-yard at midday, where there were a large company of men at work. "As to that," he said, "the deed was done, and there was no question as to who did it." His answer was, he could do nothing in the case, unless some white man would come forward and testify. He could issue no warrant on my word. If I had been killed in the presence of a thousand colored people, their testimony combined would have been insufficient to have arrested one of the murderers. Master Hugh, for once, was compelled to say this state of things was too bad. Of course, it was impossible to get any white man to volunteer his testimony in my behalf, and against the white young men. Even those who may have sympathized with me were not prepared to do this. It required a degree of courage unknown to them to do so; for just at that time, the slightest manifestation of humanity toward a colored person was denounced as abolitionism, and that name subjected its bearer to frightful liabilities. The watchwords of the bloody-minded in that region, and in those days, were, "Damn the abolitionists!" and "Damn the n****rs!" There was nothing done, and probably nothing would have been done if I had been killed.

The Hungryalist or the hungry generation movement was a literary movement in Bengali that was launched in 1961, by a group of young Bengali poets. It was spearheaded by the famous Hungryalist quartet — Malay Roychoudhury, Samir Roychoudhury, Shakti Chattopadhyay and Debi Roy. They had coined Hungryalism from the word ‘Hungry’ used by Geoffrey Chaucer in his poetic line “in the sowre hungry tyme”. The central theme of the movement was Oswald Spengler’s idea of History, that an ailing culture feeds on cultural elements brought from outside. These writers felt that Bengali culture had reached its zenith and was now living on alien food. . . . The movement was joined by other young poets like Utpal Kumar Basu, Binoy Majumdar, Sandipan Chattopadhyay, Basudeb Dasgupta, Falguni Roy, Tridib Mitra and many more. Their poetry spoke the displaced people and also contained huge resentment towards the government as well as profanity. … On September 2, 1964, arrest warrants were issued against 11 of the Hungry poets. The charges included obscenity in literature and subversive conspiracy against the state. The court case went on for years, which drew attention worldwide. Poets like Octavio Paz, Ernesto Cardenal and Beat poets like Allen Ginsberg visited Malay Roychoudhury. The Hungryalist movement also influenced Hindi, Marathi, Assamese, Telugu & Urdu literature.

Is Joanna Gaines here? We have a warrant here for her arrest,” the officer said. It was the tickets. I knew it. And I panicked. I picked up my son and I hid in the closet. I literally didn’t know what to do. I’d never even had a speeding ticket, and all of a sudden I’m thinking, I’m about to go to prison, and my child won’t be able to eat. What is this kid gonna do? I heard Chip say, “She’s not here.” Thankfully, Drake didn’t make a peep, and the officer believed him. He said, “Well, just let her know we’re looking for her,” and they left. Jo’s the most conservative girl in the world. She had never even been late for school. I mean, this girl was straitlaced. So now we realize there’s a citywide warrant out for her arrest, and we’re like, “Oh, crap.” In her defense, Jo had wanted to pay those tickets off all along, and I was the one saying, “No way. I’m not paying these tickets.” So we decided to try to make it right. We called the judge, and the court clerk told us, “Okay, you have an appointment at three in the afternoon to discuss the tickets. See you then.” We wanted to ask the judge if he could remove a few of them for us. “The fines for our dogs “running at large” on our front porch just seemed a bit excessive. We arrived at the courthouse, and Chip was carrying Drake in his car seat. I couldn’t carry it because I was still recovering from Drake’s delivery. We got inside and spoke to a clerk. They looked at the circumstances and decided to switch all the tickets into Chip’s name. Those dogs were basically mine, and it didn’t make sense to have the tickets in her name. But as soon as they did that, this police officer walked over and said, “Hey, do you mind emptying out all of your pockets?” I got up and cooperated. “Absolutely. Yep,” I said. I figured it was just procedure before we went in to see the judge. Then he said, “Yeah, you mind taking off your belt?” I thought, That’s a little weird. Then he said, “Do you mind turning around and putting your hands behind your back?” They weren’t going to let us talk to the judge at all. The whole thing was just a sting to get us to come down there and be arrested. They arrested Chip on the spot. And I’m sitting there saying, “I can’t carry this baby in his car seat. What am I supposed to do?” I started bawling. “You can’t take him!” I cried. But they did. They took him right outside and put him in the back of a police car. Now I feel like the biggest loser in the world. I’m in the back of a police car as my crying wife comes out holding our week-old baby. I’m walking out, limping, and waving to him as they drive away. And I can’t even wave because my hands are cuffed behind my back. So here I am awkwardly trying to make a waving motion with my shoulder and squinching my face just to try to make Jo feel better. It was just the most comical thing, honestly. A total joke. To take a man to jail because his dogs liked to walk around a neighborhood, half of which he owns? But it sure wasn’t funny at the time. I was flooded with hormones and just could not stop crying. They told me they were taking my husband to the county jail. Luckily we had a buddy who was an attorney, so I called him. I was clueless. “I’ve never dated a guy that’s been in trouble, and now I’ve got a husband that’s in jail.

On the evening of Wednesday, June 22, 1955, there was an official re-election ceremony being held on the open porch behind the Executive Mansion. As usual it was hot and steamy in Monrovia and without air-conditioning the country’s President and several members of his administration were taking in the cooler, but still damp, night air. Without warning, several shots were fired in the direction of the President. In the dark all that could be seen were the bright flashes from a pistol. Two men, William Hutchins, a guard, and Daniel Derrick, a member of the national legislature, fell wounded, but fortunately President Tubman had escaped harm and was hurried back into the building. In the dark no one was certain, but Paul Dunbar was apparently seen by someone in the garden behind the mansion. James Bestman, a presidential security agent, subdued and apprehended the alleged shooter in the Executive Pavilion, best known for its concrete painted animals. It was said that Bestman had used his .38 caliber “Smith and Wesson,” revolver. Members of the opposition party were accused of participating in the assassination plot and a dragnet was immediately cast to round up the alleged perpetrators. It didn’t take long before the son of former President William Coleman, Samuel David Coleman, was indicted, as was his son John. The following day, warrants for the arrest of Former President Barclay, and others in opposition to Tubman, were also issued for allegedly being accomplices. Coleman and his son fled to Clay-Ashland, a township 15 miles north of Monrovia in the St. Paul River District of Montserrado County. Photo Caption: The (former) Liberian Executive Mansion.

Imported narcotics on CIA planes and otherwise serve three purposes important to the federal government. It is good business, exceeding war profits. Drug dealers work with the intelligence and military sectors. Profits gained from drug traffic help support covert projects, including assassinations. Second, provocateurs and police agents purposely push narcotics into the ghettos to control minorities. According to Louis Tackwood, the LAPD distributed drugs, as do other police agencies. Third, the necessary violence and crime in the streets caused by supporting drug habits requires more police, local helicopters, surveillance, arrests without warrants, framing selected patsies by planting evidence, and makes the law enforcement agent the protector of our life and property. Planted marijuana in the binoculars of John Lennon was the excuse to deport him. In spite of the cultural advancements that he and Yoko Ono have made, their outspoken criticism of war, genocide and political imprisonment make them eligible for the “enemies list.

Quitempredictably, the enormous economic rewards created both by the drug-war forfeiture and Byrne-grant laws has created an environment in which a very old one line exists between the lawful andnunlawful taking of other people's money and property-- line so thin that some officers disregard the formalities of search warrants, probable cause, and reasonable suspicion altogether. In United States v. Reese, for example, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals described a drug task force completely corrupted by its dependence on federal drug money. Operating as a separate unit within the Oakland Housing Authority, the task force behaved, in the words of one officer, "more or less like a wolf pack," driving up jnmpolice vehicles and taking "anything and everything we saw on the street corner." The officers were under tremendous pressure from their commander to keep their arrest numbers up, and all of the officers were awaremthat their jobs depended on the renewal of a federal grant. The task force commander emphasized that they would need statistics to show that the grant money was well spent and sent the task force out to begin a shift with comments like, "Let's go out and kick ass," and "Everybody goes to jail for every thing, right?

And the officers in question admitted this to you, did they?” “Some of them did, yes. Though of course they’d never admit it in public.” “Oh, of course,” I said. “They’d been bringing him in for questioning for years, all related to various murders. They could get nothing to stick, until one of his People slipped up and got himself arrested. He told the cops everything. He told them more than everything. He told them about stuff so bizarre and insane that he had to be making it up, but within all that craziness he knew enough details about open murder cases that they were forced to take him seriously.” “So did they have enough to arrest Moon?” Chrissy took a moment to sip her drink. “It didn’t make any difference. Their key witness, who had agreed to testify and name Moon as the one who’d done all the killing, died in his cell the same night they went to search Moon’s house. He hanged himself with a sheet.” “How inconvenient,” I said, but Chrissy ignored me and continued. “You should know this part,” she said. “The cops have their warrant, knock on the door, don’t get an answer, and they break the door down. They find Bubba Moon’s body in the basement, lying in the middle of a circle, surrounded by occult symbols.” The

Marijuana, up to now, gives me little reason to adjust that opinion. Pot can be responsibly legalized. Instead, we are choosing the route we took with opioids: a now-legal, potent drug is being made widely available and marketed with claims about its risk-free nature. Big Pot is only a matter of time. Altria, which owns Marlboro, is moving into legal marijuana. The final absurdity is that as we face climate change’s existential threat, we make a weed that thrives under the sun legal to grow indoors, with a huge carbon footprint. Pot may well have medical benefits. Opioids certainly do. But supply matters. So does potency and marketing and distribution. The opioid-addiction crisis should have taught us that. I’m sympathetic to the idea of decriminalizing drugs, as well. Yet I believe it misunderstands the nature of addiction and ignores the unforgiving drug stream every addict must face today. One reason overdose deaths during the coronavirus pandemic skyrocketed is that police in many areas stopped arresting people for the minor crimes and outstanding warrants that are symptoms of their addictions. Left on the street, many use until they die. Certainly the story of that death toll is as complex as those of the people whose deaths are counted in it. But I suspect we’ll come to see the last ten months of 2020 and into 2021 at least in part as one long, unplanned experiment into what happens when the most devastating street drugs we’ve known are, in effect, decriminalized, and those addicted to them are allowed to remain on the street to use them.

Federal law enforcement officials, even in free states, were required to arrest fugitive slaves and anyone who assisted them and threatened with punishment if they failed to enforce the measure: “Any marshal or deputy marshal refuse to receive such warrant, or other process, when tendered, or to use all proper means diligently to execute the same, he shall, on conviction thereof, be fined in the sum of one thousand dollars.”41 The act nullified state laws and forced citizens and local officials to apprehend escaped slaves regardless of their convictions, religious views, or state or local laws and compelled citizens in free states to “aid and assist in the prompt and efficient execution of this law, whenever their services may be required.”42 Penalties were harsh and the financial incentives for compliance attractive. “Anyone caught providing food and shelter to an escaped slave, assuming northern whites could discern who was a runaway, would be subject to a fine of one thousand dollars and six months in prison. The law also suspended habeas corpus and the right to trial by jury for captured blacks.

that once the police officer discovered the existence of an outstanding warrant for Strieff, the resulting search as part of his arrest became permissible. The outstanding warrant for Strieff’s arrest, he said, was a critical intervening circumstance that was independent of the illegal stop: its discovery broke the causal chain between the unconstitutional stop and the search. The stop’s unlawfulness was irrelevant; the evidence gained, the illegal drugs, could be admitted against Strieff in court to gain his conviction.

On the day the hulk was towed away from Asbury Park, George White Rogers opened a radio-repair shop in Bayonne, New Jersey. It was the first time he had worked in some months. Customers found Rogers a bombastic shopkeeper, fond of telling them how lucky they were to have their radio sets mended by him. His business dropped off. One day in February 1935, Rogers left the shop “to get a breath of air.” Shortly afterward it caught fire. Bayonne police files reveal: “An inventory made by Rogers disclosed equipment had suffered damage to the extent of $1200. Arson was suspected. But no proof existed to warrant an arrest. He collected from the insurance company.

During a temporary absence of General Harney, Captain Lyon, commanding United States forces at St. Louis, initiated hostilities against the State of Missouri under the following circumstances: In obedience to the militia law of the State, an annual encampment was directed by the Governor for instruction in tactics. Camp Jackson, near St. Louis, was designated for the encampment of the militia of the county in 1861. Here for some days companies of State militia, amounting to about eight hundred men, under command of Brigadier-General D. M. Frost, were being exercised, as is usual upon such occasions. They presented no appearance of a hostile camp. There were no sentinels to guard against surprise; visitors were freely admitted; it was the picnic-ground for the ladies of the city, and everything wore the aspect of merry-making rather than that of grim-visaged war. Suddenly, Captain (afterward General) Nathaniel Lyon appeared with an overwhelming force of Federal troops, surrounded this holiday encampment, and demanded an unconditional surrender. Resistance was impracticable, and none was attempted; the militia surrendered, and were confined as prisoners; but prisoners of what? There was no war, and no warrant for their arrest as offenders against the law. It is left for the usurpers to frame a vocabulary suited to their act.

I’m not one of them, Captain!” Lydia said quickly. She moved forward, her hands clasped together in supplication. “You can see I’m not a Skandian!” The captain studied her, then looked at the rest of the crew. They were mostly fair skinned and blue eyed. She was dark haired, with olive skin. She definitely didn’t look like a Skandian. “Treacherous cow!” Jesper muttered. Then he grunted in pain as Stig shot an elbow into his ribs to silence him. “Shut up, you fool!” Stig said, out of the corner of his mouth. “I’m just a passenger! I paid them for passage down the river!” Lydia was saying, wringing her hands before her. “I’m from Krall. My parents are dead and I’m going to live with my uncle in Raguza.” She glared at Thorn. “And they took advantage of me. They charged me double the going rate for my fare!” she added angrily. Not bad, Thorn thought. Then, in a loud voice, he snarled at her. “You were happy enough to pay when you came to us, girl! You pleaded with us to take you on board! You couldn’t thank us enough then, could you? I’ll wager you were in trouble in Krall and had to get away in a hurry. I told the boys you’d be nothing but bad luck, but you won them over with your big brown eyes!” “Quiet,” the captain said distractedly. He studied the warrant again. There was definitely no mention of a girl. There was no order for her arrest and her story was logical. He knew from his briefing that the Skandians were pursuing a ship that was headed for Raguza. He came to a decision.

Illegal arrest, illegal warrants and seizure are a bit more than an issue.

April 6: Judge Griffin issues a new arrest warrant when Marilyn again fails to appear to answer the charge of driving without a license.

Why serve an arrest warrant to some crack dealer with a .38? With full armor, the right shit, and training, you can kick ass and have fun. —US MILITARY OFFICER WHO CONDUCTED TRAINING SEMINARS FOR CIVILIAN SWAT TEAMS IN THE 1990S

In scores of cities all over the United States, when the Communists were simultaneously meeting at their various headquarters on New Year’s Day of 1920, Mr. Palmer’s agents and police and voluntary aides fell upon them—fell upon everybody, in fact, who was in the hall, regardless of whether he was a Communist or not (how could one tell?)—and bundled them off to jail, with or without warrant. Every conceivable bit of evidence—literature, membership lists, books, papers, pictures on the wall, everything—was seized, with or without a search warrant. On this and succeeding nights other Communists and suspected Communists were seized in their homes. Over six thousand men were arrested in all, and thrust summarily behind the bars for days or weeks—often without any chance to learn what was the explicit charge against them. At least one American citizen, not a Communist, was jailed for days through some mistake—probably a confusion of names—and barely escaped deportation. In Detroit, over a hundred men were herded into a bull-pen measuring twenty-four by thirty feet and kept there for a week under conditions which the mayor of the city called intolerable. In Hartford, while the suspects were in jail the authorities took the further precaution of arresting and incarcerating all visitors who came to see them, a friendly call being regarded as prima facie evidence of affiliation with the Communist party. Ultimately a considerable proportion of the prisoners were released for want of sufficient evidence that they were Communists. Ultimately, too, it was divulged that in the whole country-wide raid upon these dangerous men—supposedly armed to the teeth—exactly three pistols were found, and no explosives at all. But at the time the newspapers were full of reports from Mr. Palmer’s office that new evidence of a gigantic plot against the safety of the country had been unearthed; and although the steel strike was failing, the coal strike was failing, and any danger of a socialist régime, to say nothing of a revolution, was daily fading, nevertheless to the great mass of the American people the Bolshevist bogey became more terrifying than ever. Mr. Palmer was in full cry. In public statements he was reminding the twenty million owners of Liberty bonds and the nine million farm-owners and the eleven million owners of savings accounts, that the Reds proposed to take away all they had. He was distributing boilerplate propaganda to the press, containing pictures of horrid-looking Bolsheviks with bristling beards, and asking if such as these should rule over America. Politicians were quoting the suggestion of Guy Empey that the proper implements for dealing with the Reds could be “found in any hardware store,” or proclaiming, “My motto for the Reds is S. O. S.—ship or shoot. I believe we should place them all on a ship of stone, with sails of lead, and that their first stopping-place should be hell.” College graduates were calling for the dismissal of professors suspected of radicalism; school-teachers were being made to sign oaths of allegiance; business men with unorthodox political or economic ideas were learning to hold their tongues if they wanted to hold their jobs. Hysteria had reached its height.

Most strikingly, the court issues municipal arrest warrants not on the basis of public safety needs, but rather as a routine response to missed court appearances and required fine payments. In 2013 alone, the court issued over 9,000 warrants on cases stemming in large part from minor violations such as parking infractions, traffic tickets, or housing code violations. Jail time would be considered far too harsh a penalty for the great majority of these code violations, yet Ferguson’s municipal court routinely issues warrants for people to be arrested and incarcerated for failing to timely pay related fines and fees. Under state law, a failure to appear in municipal court on a traffic charge involving a moving violation also results in a license suspension. Ferguson has made this penalty even more onerous by only allowing the suspension to be lifted after payment of an

February 2: Judge Charles J. Griffin issues a warrant for Marilyn’s arrest when she fails to appear in court after being cited for driving without a license.

Imagine there is a fabulously wealthy king who looks out the window of his castle one day and, in the distance, sees a beautiful Cinderella-type peasant living in the slums. His heart is ravished and he thinks, “This is the  perfect bride for my son, the prince.” Unlike other kings—wicked worldly kings—he cannot just abduct her and make her a slave-concubine of his son. He must genuinely invite her to take the hand of his son voluntarily. So, along with his entourage and his son, they make their way out of the palace into the squalor beyond the moat, searching hut to hut and through the markets until they find her. The offer is made: “Young lady,” says the king, “this is my beloved son, the prince of this kingdom and heir to all that is mine. I humbly beseech you to come out of your life of poverty and oppression and to join my son in holy matrimony, enjoying all of the benefits that come with a princess’ life.” The offer seems to be too good to be true. All she needs to do is consent to the proposal. But there’s a hitch. The king continues, “There is a deadline. If you don’t say yes by such-and-such a date, we will arrest you, put you in our dungeon, where torturers will fillet you alive for endless ages, supernaturally keeping you alive such that your torment is never-ending. Moreover, after the deadline, your decision is irrevocable. No repentance is possible. The dishonor of your rejection is too great to warrant any second chance. The consequences of refusal are without mercy and utterly irreversible.”  As the king, the prince and their cohort leave, the prince turns and says, “Oh yes, please hurry. And always know that I will love you forever and for always … but only until the deadline.” Is this our gospel? If it were, would it truly be a gospel that preserves the love of God, the freewill of humanity and the mutual consent inherent in and necessary to God’s invitation? I don’t buy it any more. Without going into great detail here, might I suggest that because God, by nature, is the eternally consenting Bridegroom, there are two things he cannot and will not do: He will not ever make you marry his Son, because an irresistible grace would violate your consent. Your part will always and forever be by consent. His consent will never end, because a violent ultimatum would violate your consent. Divine love will always and forever be by consent. Emphasis on forever. “His mercy endures forever” (Psalm 136). “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness” (Jer. 31:3). I don’t believe the divine courtship involves wearing you down with his love until you give up. It’s simply that he’ll always love you, with a love that even outlasts and overcomes death (Song of Solomon 8). The Bible at least hints (Rev. 21-22) that the prodigal Father will wait for you, invite you and keep the doors open for you until you’re ready to come home. He’ll wait for you forever. 

Voltaire was also there, fleeing a royal arrest warrant, and working as a kind of one-man eighteenth-century USO show during the siege, offering bons mots and brandy between bouts of battle and composing odes to the military men. The

Fyte’s beef with me started when I first got out of jail. As soon as I started flipping weight again, he was on my ass. I knew it wasn’t legit because of the way he would pop up where I was without warrants, never searching or arresting me.

But what I did know was that comfortably living in that house with Omari was no longer an option. Living daily while wondering when the next visit from that detective would be, if the next time she would have more evidence and an arrest warrant for me, was not an option. Finally, I had no choice but to let Omari go.               I

There are very few reasons for identity theft, Ellie. One is to profit from the victim’s bank accounts. The other is to hide who you really are because who you really are is not lawful. Since Dr. Gunterson never suspected his identity was borrowed, I assume there was no theft. I bet our Arnie has priors. He’s done something wrong somewhere and needs to be someone else. And if he’s hiding, he’s probably hiding from the police. And if he’s hiding from the police, there are probably warrants. And if there are warrants, I believe it would serve our purpose to let him be arrested.” Brie lifted an eyebrow. “Hmm?” “Wow,” Ellie said. “I should have known. If he’s nothing but a criminal, shouldn’t I have known?” Brie shook her head. “I can’t answer that one for you, Ellie. I spent years in the district attorney’s office in Sacramento, prosecuting crimes like this. I met a lot of very intelligent women who were victimized by manipulative men, as well as perfectly sharp men taken for a wild ride by clever, dishonest women. It’s a con, and you were at a vulnerable time in your life. Cons can smell that a mile away. Sadly, it’s common in the world of criminal law.” “Can

What else are we to make of the fact that at the time of the DOJ investigation, more than sixteen thousand people—this out of a population of twenty thousand—had some form of outstanding arrest warrant, nearly all of them relating to a missed payment or court appearance on a traffic fine or a (usually minor) municipal code violation?72

A report by ArchCity Defenders, a non-profit group, found that the municipal court in Ferguson—a city of 21,135 people—issued 32,975 arrest warrants last year, mostly for traffic violations. These fines and fees were the second-biggest source of the city’s $20m income.

says the thrill of the raid may factor into why narcotics cops just don’t consider less volatile means of serving search warrants. “The thing is, it’s so much safer to wait the suspect out,” he says. “Waiting people out is just so much better. You’ve done your investigation, so you know their routine. So you wait until the guy leaves, and you do a routine traffic stop and you arrest him. That’s the safest way to do it. But you have to understand that a lot of these cops are meatheads. They think this stuff is cool. And they get hooked on that jolt of energy they get during a raid.”54

In seven counties it was necessary to issue search and seizure warrants or arrest warrants or both compelling colonial prothonotaries to turn over records to the Revolutionary government.Robert L.Brunhouse, The Counter-Revolution in Pennsylvania, 1776-1790 (Harrisburg, Pa.,1971), 35-36.

Massachusetts’s search and seizure provision was the work of John Adams, who had been so strongly moved by Otis’s monumental speech nearly twenty years earlier. Through Adams, Article XIV of the Massachusetts Declaration of Rights declared: “Every subject has a right to be secure from all unreasonable searches, and seizures of his person, his houses, his papers, and all his possessions. All warrants, therefore, are contrary to this right, if the cause or foundation of them be not previously supported by oath or affirmation; and if the order in the warrant to the civil officer, to make search in suspected places, to arrest one or more suspected persons, or to seize their property, be not accompanied with a special designation of the person or objects of search, arrest, or seizure: and no warrant ought to be issued but in cases and with the formalities, prescribed by the laws.

Bra already forgotten, he was working on her pants, and he kissed every inch he bared, from her waist to her knees, then to her ankles, then her toes, one by one. he laid a path of kisses down on leg, then up the other, then he placed a long, lingering kiss at her center, through her panties, She was already wet for him. Not that he hurried. All the impatience he'd shown earlier seemed to have evaporated. Doris could have crocheted a pair of panties in the amount of time it took Hunter to remove Gabi's. She squirmed under him. "I thought they teach speed in the military." "When warranted. There are times that call for careful deliberation." "You're going to deliberate me to death," she warned, just as he finally parted her hot flesh, a move that immediately silenced her. But he didn't touch her further. He blew on her clit. She nearly jackkifed off the couch. He pushed her knees up until her heels touched her butt, then he pushed her knees out until she was spread wide open just inches from his face. And then he just looked. Good grief. What was there to look at? "Touch me!" she snapped when she couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "Touch me, you torturous bastard. That's an order." He laughed deeply and heartily. "And what are you going to do if I don't?" "I'll arrest you." "I think that's what they call an abuse of power." His eyes glinted darkly. "But the idea of handcuffs does have considerable merit.

In 1997, a defendant named Christopher Johns, was on trial at a court in the town of Pontiac, Michigan. Johns had recently been arrested for the possession of drugs. During the trial, Johns claimed that he had been searched without a warrant, but the police made the argument that a warrant was unnecessary, since the bulge in his pocket could have been a gun.   Johns, who was wearing the same jacket from the crime scene, proceeded to ask the judge to look at his jacket, attempting to prove that the bulge was not a legitimate reason to have been searched, since there was still a minor bulge in the empty pocket.   The judge had the jacket handed over to him, and quickly realized the current bulge was actually a small packet of cocaine. Court records state that the judge had to immediately excuse himself momentarily, to give himself time to compose himself, after bursting into laughter at the stupidity of the defendant.

But she can’t shake the feeling that one of these days, the policeman will be coming here with a warrant for her arrest.

The obnoxious person may not be guilty of any crime . . . but if, in the opinion of the local authorities, his presence in a particular place is “prejudicial to public order” or “incompatible with public tranquility,” he may be arrested without warrant, may be held from two weeks to two years in prison, and may then be removed by force to any other place within the limits of the empire and there be put under police surveillance for a period of from one to ten years.27

You will be served non bailable arrest warrants at your first encounter of a rare love.

Look on the bright side. Even though America’s Wokey-Woke police cannot issue arrest warrants for real or imagined transgressors from the pages of history, they still have the New York Times willing to do a little front-page strangling on their behalf.

General Anderson, the military dictator of Kentucky, announces in one of his proclamations that he will arrest no one who does not act, write, or speak in opposition to Mr. Lincoln's Government. It would have completed the idea if he had added, or think in opposition to it. Look at the condition of our State under the rule of our new protectors. They have suppressed the freedom of speech and of the press. They seize people by military force upon mere suspicion, and impose on them oaths unknown to the laws. Other citizens they imprison without warrant, and carry them out of the State, so that the writ of habeas corpus can not reach them.

Look here. There is a warrant for my arrest. You’ll need at least a full squad to subdue me because I am exceedingly dangerous. Stop spacing out, there is a criminal for you to apprehend.

Jonathan ben Mordecai, to his friends Flavia, Nubia and Lupus, and to his tutor Aristo. By the time you read this I will be gone. Don’t be upset that I didn’t say goodbye. You probably would have tried to convince me not to go. And you might have succeeded. But this is something I have to do. For the past few weeks I have been having dreams. Or visions. I’m not sure what they are. I only know they have been getting stronger and stronger, especially a dream of a spiritual battle in the constellation of Gemini. I have had this dream several times. Tonight I had it again and I finally think I know what it means: Titus is in danger from his brother Domitian. Once I tried to kill Titus. Now I have a chance to make it right and I think God is calling me to do this. I am going to go to Rome to warn Titus and to help if I can. Please don’t follow me. It will be very dangerous. If I reach Titus I will try to explain about the warrant for our arrest and get him to revoke it. Then you will be able to come home again. In the meantime, stay in Ephesus, so that I will know where to find you. I pray that you will all stay happy and healthy and that one day I will see you again. Shalom. P.S. I don’t hear the voice anymore. P.P.S. Erase this message once you have read it.

Thursday, John was arrested. His mug shot was plastered all over the news and social media. Our house was in shambles, ransacked by police, and left in utter disarray, with my files thrown around like confetti by the officers executing the search warrant. I searched for comforting words for my young daughters, while trying to reconcile what I knew and didn’t know about my husband and his secret life. All this under the spotlight of the public watching our family catastrophe unfold in real time. My husband of ten years went to jail, guilty as charged of something no one wants to talk about: sexual assault of a minor he had met online. And there I was, at the base of Mount Crisis.

He had lived most of his adult life in fear of arrest, of warrants, of detectives, of getting caught. The fear had so thoroughly consumed him for so long that his daily routines included all manner of cautionary moves. And he remained, so far, ahead of the bloodhounds.

eliminate it from their records?” Wheeler snorted his disgust. “Mr. McRyan, I’ve been cooperative with you because that’s generally my nature. I’m not looking for trouble, but I think I’ve had quite enough of your questioning. Are you a cop with any jurisdiction up here?” “Nope,” Mac responded, holding his ground. “But let me ask you a question. Do you really think that makes me less dangerous to you?” “Is that a threat?” Wheeler asked. “What do you think?” Mac retorted, glaring. Wheeler looked at Rawlings. “Sheriff, is Mr. McRyan working with your office, either officially or unofficially?” “No, Mr. Wheeler, he is not. But he is someone who is a serious person that I have to respect. He’s asking questions, interesting questions, about a case I care very much about.” “Sheriff, do you have a search warrant for my premises?” “No, I don’t, Mr. Wheeler.” “Am I or my company under investigation?” Rawlings shook his head. “Not by my office at the moment, but I remain interested in the Buller case. Four people were murdered, including two very young children. Mr. McRyan has raised certain specific issues that have once again piqued my interest in that case.” “I understood that case to be closed.” “It is perhaps not an active investigation, but it is not closed,” Rawlings replied. “There’s been no arrest. There is a theory as to what happened, but that’s all it is—a theory.” Mac looked back with a cunning smile and said, “Theories change, Mr. Wheeler. Evidence, like oil, bubbles up to the surface.” “That’s enough,” Wheeler retorted, standing up, coming around the desk, and getting into McRyan’s space. “I don’t like your tone or what either of you are accusing me or my company of.” Wheeler pointed to the door. “Sheriff, you want to get a search warrant, get a search warrant, but I think you won’t. And Mr. McRyan, if you want any more information, here’s the number for our lawyer.

The NYPD didn’t come knocking on my door with an arrest warrant for stalking. Satan didn’t take the elevator up to Earth and hand me my passport to Hell.

K. allowed himself to become involved in an involuntary staring match with Franz, but at least thumped his paper and said: "Here are my identification papers." "So what?" the taller guard cried out, "you're behaving worse than a child. What is it you want? Do you think you can bring your whole damn trial to a quick conclusion by discussing your identity and arrest warrant with your guards? We're lowly employees who can barely make our way through such documents and whose only role in your affair is to stand guard over you ten hours a day and get paid for it. That's all we are, but we're smart enough to realize that before ordering such an arrest the higher authorities who employ us inform themselves in great detail about the person they're arresting and the grounds for the arrest. there's been no mistake. After all, our department, as far as I know, and I know only the lowest level, doesn't seek out guilt among the general population, but, as the Law states, is attracted by guilt and has to send us guards out. That's the Law. What mistake could there be?

Agents from Sacramento traveled fifteen hundred miles to arrest the goat-gland king. To the governor of Kansas, Jonathan M. Davis, they presented their warrant for extradition. Davis handed it back and told them to go home. Asked why he refused to surrender Brinkley, the governor was disarmingly frank. “We people in Kansas get fat on his medicine,” he said. “We’re going to keep him here so long as he lives.

The United States government effectively put a three-trillion-dollar Band-Aid over the problem and changed nothing. The bankers were rescued; small-scale debtors—with a paltry few exceptions—were not.14 To the contrary, in the middle of the greatest economic recession since the ’30s, we are already beginning to see a backlash against them—driven by financial corporations who have now turned to the same government that bailed them out to apply the full force of the law against ordinary citizens in financial trouble. “It’s not a crime to owe money,” reports the Minneapolis-St. Paul StarTribune, “But people are routinely being thrown in jail for failing to pay debts.” In Minnesota, “the use of arrest warrants against debtors has jumped 60 percent over the past four years, with 845 cases in 2009 … In Illinois and southwest Indiana, some judges jail debtors for missing court-ordered debt payments. In extreme cases, people stay in jail until they raise a minimum payment. In January [2010], a judge sentenced a Kenney, Ill., man ‘to indefinite incarceration’ until he came up with $300 toward a lumber yard debt.”15

Although whites were more likely to be guilty of carrying drugs, they were far less likely to be viewed as suspicious, resulting in relatively few stops, searches and arrests of whites. The former New Jersey attorney general dubbed this phenomenon the 'circular illogic of racial profiling.' Law enforcement officials, he explained, often point to the racial composition of our prisons and jails as a justification for targeting racial minorities, but the empirical evidence actually suggested the opposite conclusion was warranted. The disproportionate imprisonment of people of color was, in part, a product of racial profiling - not a justification for it.

It was a stunning blow to learn that there was no warrant for my arrest, much less an international all-points bulletin. I had lived for years like a hunted animal, while no one at all was looking for me, not even back home. That’s injustice for you.

Overall, current laws pertaining to Holocaust denial appear to be loosely interpreted, vaguely worded and erratically applied, each case being adapted as circumstances warrant. In those countries which have enacted laws restricting freedom of expression, citizens live under a pervasive sword of Damocles. In the present dystopian age, a casual remark uttered in jest may lead to denunciation, arrest and prosecution in scenes reminiscent of George Orwell’s prescient novel, 1984.

Is a new investigation of 9/11 necessary? Those who consider a new 9/11 investigation necessary must apparently believe that existing evidence is not sufficient for rejecting the official account. Investigations carried by volunteer citizens since 2001 have, however, assembled reams of evidence establishing probable cause regarding US government lies and complicity in orchestrating 9/11. If criminal law could be enforced, such evidence would largely suffice to issue arrest warrants against suspects among US leaders, subpoena documents and force depositions. There is, therefore, something disingenuous for those who are convinced that the Twin Towers of the WTC and WTC Nr. 7 were destroyed with explosives, to demand a new, independent, investigation of 9/11. If these individuals and groups are convinced of their findings—and there exists no reason to doubt their sincerity—there is no need for a new investigation but rather for criminal proceedings against the suspects.

The thing he’d most detest is being cut off from others; he’d rather be one of a beleaguered crowd than a prisoner alone. The plague has put an effective stop to police inquiries, sleuthings, warrants of arrest, and so forth. Come to that, we have no police nowadays; no crimes past or present, no more criminals, only condemned men hoping for the most capricious of pardons; and among these are the police themselves.

A study by the U.S. Department of Justice had found that three-quarters of Ferguson residents were subject to arrest warrants, mostly for failing to pay fines or show up in court. “We are putting people behind bars for their inability to pay fines even when we wouldn’t imagine throwing someone in jail for the underlying violation, which could be something as ordinary as jaywalking or driving with a broken tail light,” said Sam Brooke of the Southern Poverty Law Center, after landing an Arnold Foundation grant to litigate against these practices, in partnership with the ACLU.

Will told his rival that "if you ever do that again, I'll hurt you." The next day Will had a third playhouse almost two-thirds constructed when Steve once again pushed it over. The fight that followed found Will once again on his back, pinned down by Steve Gobel. This time he resorted to a small pocket knife he carried and slashed Steve on the thigh. It was not a serious wound by any means, but it did draw blood, as well as Steve's anguished cry that he had been "killed." The other pupils and the teacher came running, and Will decided he'd better make himself scarce. He fled to a wagon train led by John R. Willis, for whom he had herded cattle. When he told Willis what had happened, the wagon master hid the boy in one of his wagons. Soon Steve, his father, an elder brother, and the local constable came to arrest Will Cody. Willis, a Philadelphia lawyer at heart, demanded to see a warrant. When the constable admitted he didn't have one, Willis told him that he thought it was overdoing it to arrest a boy for what was only play. Will was safe-for the moment-but he was afraid to return to school. Willis suggested that young Cody accompany him on the wagon train, which was headed for Fort Kearny, a trip of some forty days, by which time the excitement ought to have cooled down. Will's mother consented to the trip, not without some foreboding; she feared that her son might be attacked by Indians. Cody wrote of this first trip across the plains that "it proved a most enjoyable one for me, although no incidents worthy of note occurred along the way." John Willis disagreed with Cody about the lack of incidents. Forty years later Buffalo Bill's Wild West played Memphis on October 4, 1897, and Willis, now a judge in Harrisburg, Arkansas, wanted to see it. Unfortunately, he missed the show, but he wrote Cody the following letter: "Dear Old Friend it has been a long time since I have herd from you.... I would like very much to shake your hand, Billy, and talk over the old grand hours you rode at my heels on the little gray mule while I was killing Buffalo. oh them were happy days. of course you recollect the time the Buffalo ran through the train and stampeded the teams and you stoped the stampede.

Keen and Clancy seemed to have no official position: they were simply called in, whenever people were murdered, to help solve the mystery. “We usually work along with the police, ma’am,” Clancy might say, explaining their presence. They seemed to have vast powers of arrest: they barged into homes without search warrants, ignored official procedure, shunned due process, and cared little for the rules of evidence. Keen was charming and persuasive, but his voice took on a mean edge when confronting a killer. And in the style of Hummert soaps, the dialogue was simplistic, identifying each speaker and subject fully in each utterance: “Before I open this door, Mr. Keen, let me tell you something. No one in this house right now had anything to do with the murder of young Donald Travers, my niece’s husband. “That remains to be proven, Miss Martha.” “My niece Jane Travers should never have sent you here.” “Jane Travers only wanted to help you prove your innocence, Miss Martha.” As such, it appealed to a lowest common denominator, and enjoyed a run of 17 years.

That same spring, a newcomer named Jeremiah Smith—no relation to Joseph—arrived in Nauvoo after escaping legal trouble of his own. He was accused of defrauding the federal government after claiming funds in Iowa that were meant for a relative with the same name. While charges were dismissed at his first hearing in February, he was caught attempting the same crime in April, which prompted him to flee to Nauvoo. The charges had nothing to do with the Mormon church, but Joseph took sympathy and instructed his clerk to prepare a writ of habeas corpus for Jeremiah in advance of any arrest warrant. The municipal court obliged not once but twice, allowing Jeremiah to evade arresting officers when they arrived in Nauvoo. Though Nauvoo’s use of these writs had already been exceptionally liberal, the granting of one before an actual arrest warrant had even been issued was a new tactic, and it drew additional ire. Nearby newspapers that had previously been hesitant to criticize Mormon practices angrily denounced the Jeremiah Smith ordeal as a flagrant violation of the American legal system. Thomas Sharp, always eager to attack the Mormons, announced that Smith was now effectively “above the law.