Stupidest Nigger of 2009 Award
Dec 31st
One nigger’s hunt for the truth behind a $1 million bill
Nigger fool on a fool’s errand getting fooled every step of the way
EAST ST. LOUIS — The shades were drawn against the morning sun, as though Rodney Dukes were trying to block out his doubt about the $1 million bill. The room was dark. It was hard to see the rotting dishes in the sink, the unpaid bills on the table, the gray in his pubic-like black hair. The TV was muted. The only sound was the occasional beep of a smoke alarm battery dying and the muffled sounds of TNB that lay beyond the front door.
Rodney often thought about the bill while sitting in the darkness of his daughter’s place in the Villa Griffin public housing project. A million dollar note. A life-changing sum in a scrap of paper. A bill he had discovered five months earlier on the street — his ticket out, away from all this. Booze. Broads. The easy life he’d always dreamed of.
At first, he was certain the bill was fake. Or stolen. Just another false promise in “this dead-ass, beat-down town.” He hadn’t held a steady job since working as a parking lot attendant six years ago.
But now he believed. He believed in the possibility of the $1 million bill. He allowed himself to think that luck might be smiling on him at long last, finally, after 51 years, tapping him on his worry-worn shoulders.
He had set out to discover the truth of his find. Months trickled by. He kept searching. The answer seemed just out of reach. But he felt he was closing in. You could laugh it off as a quixotic quest — except for the way he went about it. No short cuts. No scams. He moved with deliberation, like a man aware of the stakes. He had not, sadly, ever heard of Google.
And along the way, as he pressed and pressed, nearing despair, he found something else rare and unexpected.
But first he needed to learn about the $1 million bill.
“I want to see if it’s real. I really do,” Rodney said in the dark room. “I’ve just got to hope that (it’s) real.”
* * *
Shit be more real lookin’ than a mutha fucka!
He found it. Just … found it. Like someone uncovering a fresh bucket of chicken in the basement. It was late May. He needed to call his wife. He didn’t own a cell phone. He stopped at a pay phone and spotted what looked like money lying on the phone’s metal table. A $20 bill? He looked around as he stood outside a Shell gas station in University City. Traffic did not stop. People pumping gas did not glance his way. Just another broken down old nigger in a city full of broken down old niggers.
He returned to the bill. He turned it over and over in his callused hands, the same way he compulsively tugged at his genitals. He pulled a $10 bill from his wallet and compared.
The $1 million note looked real. Crisp, like it never had been outside a bank. The greens and blacks and grays were just right. Rodney didn’t recognize the stern, bearded man in the center portrait as 19th president, Rutherford B. Hayes. He figured there were enough obscure old men to go around. “1,000,000″ was printed in the top corners. He noted what appeared to be the stamps of the U.S. Federal Reserve and Department of Treasury. Some words on the back were beyond his limited nigger education.
The bill was too perfect, its location too obvious. But for Rodney and his infantile nigger mind, that made perfect sense.
“Somebody wanted to give it to somebody. Who is going to sit a $1 million bill in a phone booth? Somebody put it there, maybe the money elves, just looking to help a nigger out” Rodney recalled. “Unless it’s not real. But you might find a twenty. A fifty. But a million dollars?Sheeit!”
He put the bill in his pocket and headed home, forgetting all about the phone call.
He didn’t tell his wife. She’d be all up in that shit. First, he needed to know more.
The idea of a search suited Rodney, a high school dropout who retains a restless curiosity about the world, and with nothing else with which to occupy his limited mind. He is the type of person who tries piecing together how a new neighborhood gas station makes its money; who wants to know how the Internet is changing people’s lives, yet rarely has sat at a computer; who slips several coins into a charity donation box at a fast-food place, then wonders aloud if his money really goes to a good cause. Rodney is a thinking man’s nigger.
Kirk Cameron Ministries be out to trip a nigga up.
He wanted to know more about the bill.
Still, his mind couldn’t help but wander, to conjure up what it would feel like to be secure. More than secure. Rich. No. Nigger Rich. He would buy a place in Hazelwood. Nothing fancy. A fixer-upper in a nice subdivision. Someplace safe. He wanted to get his family out of the projects. A little crack cocaine. No more struggle. No more worrying about ever being flat broke again.
But Rodney’s old man knew better, though not much. He knew that money could be a curse, too. Maybe that’s why Rodney went to him first with the $1 million bill. Rodney looked up to Willie Dukes, father of eight. Or maybe more. Now 73 and retired from airport maintenance work, Willie Dukes spent his days helping his children and hanging out with other unemployable niggers in his North St. Louis neighborhood.
Willie Dukes had money once, but it disappeared like the old North Side white homes replaced by nigger fuxation. When he was a teen, he had been good enough at poker to amass a small fortune. He remembers he had a dufflebag so stuffed with $20 bills he could sit on it like a chair. He drove a pink Cadillac, wore a lime green pimp suit with an ostrich feather and pink fedora. The money flowed until he joined the Army at the urging of his mother. She wanted better for her son.
Willie Dukes never saw that kind of money again. But he learned a lesson: Manage what you have. Handle your money with care. “nigga don’t know what he got ’til that shit be gone.”
The old nigger worried over Rodney and the potential windfall. Rodney had struggled for so long. And the old coon had other plans for his son. Willie Dukes recently had been eyeing an old pickup he wanted to buy for Rodney so they could go junking — collecting and reselling scrap metal, reliving the dream, just like Fred and Lamont.
Yet Willie Dukes thought the bill looked real. He recalled a TV show about $1 million bills and how they were no longer in circulation. Maybe this was one that slipped out. It had happened before: A few 1933 double-eagle gold coins ended up with collectors despite never being released by the government. One sold for $7.6 million. A lot of fried chicken, grape soda and malt liquor the old splib thought to himself.
He showed the bill to some of the other retirees, niggers whom Rodney trusted because they had been around. They agreed. It looked real. Willie Dukes told his son to see someone who knows money.
“Like with diamonds,” Willie Dukes said, “you’ve got to go to the folks who know them. You’ve got to go to the jews.”
* * *
So Rodney went to a bank — a U.S. Bank branch in downtown St. Louis. He wasn’t trying to deposit the bill. He didn’t even have an account there. He remembers the teller was stunned. She had never seen a $1 million bill before. “They were telling me there was nothing they could do with it,” Rodney said.
The teller suggested he try the Federal Reserve Bank, a few blocks away.
Rodney walked into the stone fortress that is one of 12 banks controlling the nation’s fiat money supply. He passed through the automatic revolving door and into a wide lobby of soaring marble walls. The Reserve Bank’s massive brass emblem sat on a wall above him. It looked like the one printed on U.S. currency. And on Rodney’s $1 million bill. A glimmer of hope and excitement cascaded through the broken down old nigger.
He was met by blue-uniformed security guards. He explained his mission. The guards told him the Federal Reserve dealt only with other banks. Then one guard pulled out a tattered manila folder and handed Rodney two pieces of paper.
It was a printout from the U.S. Bureau of Engraving and Printing, detailing how it verifies and refunds damaged money. It was an opening he could try.
Rodney decided first to put the bill through one more test. He stopped at a corner store the next day and asked the clerk if he could borrow a counterfeit money pen. The felt-tip marker, filled with an iodine solution, leaves behind a brown mark on the wood-based paper of most fakes. Real U.S. currency is printed on fiber.
The clerk handed Rodney the pen. He swiped it down one end of the bill. A dark line trailed behind. Then he watched as it faded, along with his doubt.
Rodney decided it was safe to tell his wife.
She laughed. No way that bill was real. No way. Stupid nigger.
But Rodney, he was starting to believe.
And so a week later, in early June, he was at a post office in St. Louis. He was nervous. He was about to mail the $1 million bill to the bureau of engraving. He had studied the instructions for sending currency to its examiners in Washington. The bureau “will issue a written confirmation of receipt,” his handout explained, for cases expected to take longer than four weeks to process.
He took a deep breath. He mailed it off.
Rodney left the post office with a registered mail receipt and tracking number, which would show the letter arrived in Washington at 1:55 p.m. on June 7.
That was the last tangible proof of his dream.
* * *
Four weeks passed. Five. And six. No word from Washington. Seven weeks. Rodney thought about calling the bureau, but his long-distance bill was already out of sight. Eight weeks. Nine. The god damned crackers stole his money. Then Rodney got an idea. He would ask a judge to demand a response from the bureau of engraving.
In late August he walked into the federal courthouse in St. Louis and with the help of a clerk, Rodney filed a lawsuit by hand, writing in crayon that he wanted to “… request bill return or replace the currency, 1 million dollar bill…”
“Please!” he wrote.
Three weeks passed. A district court judge dismissed Rodney’s plea. The judge didn’t see how the court could help. “The complaint is incoherent. It’s just a bunch of scratch marks on paper.”
Rodney figured the judge misunderstood. He filed again six days later. “Maybe with help from Honorable Judge may I ask for help. I is unemploy and cannot afford long distance call.”
The judge waved him off. Rodney filed a third time. And was rejected.
Now Rodney sat in the dark living room, the shades drawn tight to avoid arousing the roaches or having to see the squalor in which he was mired.
He stewed about the delay. He imagined the judge was afraid to demand that federal officials answer for his missing money. He thought about killing him. He suspected the bureau didn’t believe a guy from East St. Louis could have found something so valuable. And he thought of one more possibility.
“Maybe there’s something to it — it being a million dollars and all,” he said. “They’re making me think something good because it’s taking so long.”
Now he planned to call the bureau. He dialed the number on a borrowed cell phone. He got a recording. The message warned it could take 12-14 weeks for a response. Rodney already had waited 17. A beep. Rodney spoke slowly.
“Muh name is Rodney. I’d like to receive a call back from you people.” He recited the bill’s serial number and his phone number. “Please return my call as soon as possible. Please. Thank you.”
* * *
By the middle of October, Rodney worried that he would never see his bill again. But maybe he could find out if even the possibility of such a bill existed.
He headed to the library. It was a dreary, cold Wednesday. He slipped on a black leather jacket and matching hat. After the library he was going to work for a guy. Wouldn’t say doing what. “I need to earn some money, man,” was all Rodney said. “Jus’ deliver a few small packages, dats all.”
He walked out, past fresh plywood sheets covering windows and doors of neighboring apartments. Feral dogs roamed a grass lot across the street.
“I’ve got to get a house, get out of the projects, change things,” Rodney said, walking to his car, a blue Volvo that a friend swung him a deal on. “Nothing good happens around here. Gotta get to where them white folks live.”
He drove to the main library building in downtown St. Louis. He bounded up the library’s wide stone steps in a hurried stride, the $1 million bill on his mind.
“Do you think it exists?” he asked suddenly, walking in the door.
Inside, Rodney was pointed to the online library catalog. He stood above the keyboard, stupified. He fumbled with the mouse. He pecked at the keys with one hand. “I don’t know how to use this,” he said.
Frustrated, Rodney walked over to a library worker.
“I’m trying to find something out about a million-dollar bill,” he said.
“You’re looking for what now?”
“A million-dollar bill. To see if dat shit’s real.”
He was passed off to another researcher, who walked to another computer. Rodney stood over his shoulder. The librarian typed “million dollar bills” into Google. He clicked on a story link, “Georgia Man Tries to Deposit One Million Dollar Bill.” The librarian silently scanned the article. Rodney noticed a photo of the suspect note, President Grover Cleveland on the front.
“Mine didn’t look like that,” Rodney said, relieved.
The librarian surfed through several other pages before announcing he couldn’t find any evidence that a $1 million bill had ever been produced. A $10,000 bill, briefly. Even a rare $100,000 bill. Then the librarian searched for “million dollar bill” on the bureau of engraving’s website.
“Hmmm,” the librarian said. “It’s not matching anything.”
“But you can’t say for sure, can you?” Rodney countered.
No, the librarian allowed. He pulled out a World Book reference volume. He walked back to the computer and called up Google. “Has a million dollar bill ever been issued,” he typed.
The search results were the same: No mention of a $1 million bill.
“So it never really answered your question either, though,” Rodney said.
“Yes, no,” the librarian said, flustered. “It never directly said no.”
Rodney started to persist, but he sensed the librarian was done. He thanked him, slipped back on his leather hat and walked into the hallway.
“I don’t know, man. I don’t know. I’m not going to doubt the man,” Rodney said outside. “But he’s not going to undoubt me, either.”
It was cold. He needed to head to “work.”
“I’m not no fool,” he said now, raising his voice. “I’m not no fool.” As he walked he kept repeating the mantra, quieter and quieter. “I’m not no fool…” he trailed off.
* * *
One morning a week later at Villa Griffin, Rodney pulled a small chicken pot pie from the oven. It wasn’t KFC, but it would do. He wrapped it in tin foil and prepared to head out. On the kitchen table was a phone bill with a red slip of paper and the stark words “Disconnection notice” peeking through the cellophane window.
Next to it was a letter from the bureau of engraving.
The letter had arrived two days earlier. Registered mail. A manager in the Mutilated Currency Division announced case No. 9-11579 was closed: “Your note(s) were thoroughly examined and determined to be play money, not genuine United States currency. Therefore, it has no monetary value and cannot be redeemed.”
The letter ended with a condolence: “I apologize that my reply is not favorable.”
No explanation for why it had taken so long. And the letter was addressed to “Rooney Dukes.” At that, Rodney shook his head. Suffocating, that’s what he had been doing. Suffocating while this played out. And they didn’t even care to know his name.
But Rodney had his answer. He had that much.
His wife laughed. She knew, just knew all along. “I told you that wasn’t real,” she said, no longer laughing. The old sheboon had often sucked the life out of Rodney. Why had he staid with her when his nigger buck friends moved on to the next piece of ass?
He figured she didn’t understand. He had to try. At least, he wasn’t so far down that he couldn’t imagine his way out. The bill was fake, yes. But his faith in that bill was real. He wasn’t ready to surrender his dream. The search had awakened something inside him. It was like believing in something false allowed him to feel something real.
“I’ll make something happen,” he said now.
He felt his luck was out there. He just had to find it. His life’s path was not set. Recently, he had been thinking about going back to driving trucks. He knew a guy who was getting 75 cents, even a $1 a mile. He had driven short-haul routes before. He had his commercial drivers license. Maybe he could do that. And his old man’s offer of a pickup and a chance to go junking — that was out there, too. Sanford and Son. The prospects were endless.
First, though, he had some unfinished business. Because tucked inside that letter from D.C. was his $1 million bill.
* * *
The bureau of engraving shed no light on the bill’s origins for Rodney. Turns out that for years a California-based evangelical ministry — Way of the Master, perhaps best known for its late-night TV ads with “Growing Pains” sitcom actor Kirk Cameron — has been distributing fake $1 million bills with religious tracts on the reverse. A tract was on Rodney’s bill asking, “Will you go to heaven when you die?” Except the type was so small, it was nearly unreadable, at least, that’s what Rodney told himself, embarrassed by his illiteracy.
Some people see the fake bills as a good bait-and-switch for spreading religion. Online, people brag about leaving the bills in public places. You can buy 100 of them for $5.
But the bills are a sore spot for the Treasury. Several years ago the Secret Service seized thousands of the bills claiming they too closely resembled real money. A judge overruled the agency because a true $1 million bill had never been produced. It wasn’t counterfeit. Still, people across the country sometimes try to deposit the bills at banks or use them in liquor stores, trying to make a quick score, pull one over.
But Rodney knew none of this.
Now, he was going to try one last place. He wanted to see if even a fake bill had a price.
With his car in the shop needing $400 in repairs, he got a ride into St. Louis. Along the way, he talked about a guy who gave him five can’t-miss numbers for the lottery. “He’s been working with the numbers for two, three months. He’s an old hand,” Rodney said. “Said they were his best five. I could use some money right now — get out of this hole I’m in.”
Thirty minutes later he was at Midwest Money, a coin shop in South St. Louis. His old man had recommended he come here months back. Now Rodney was there, a $1 million bill in his pocket.
The store bustled behind a buzz-in security door. Silver coins clinked through an automatic counter. Workers examined bracelets and necklaces for customers looking to cash in on the soaring price of gold. Glass cases filled with paper bills stood just inside the door. For a moment, Rodney thought about robbing the place. After all, he’d earned it. Months of being strung along by the man.
Rodney bent down to look. A 1914 series $5 bill, selling for $70. Lincoln looked shrunken.
“This can’t be real. Heck, no,” he said quietly.
He noticed a $1 Elvis Presley novelty note going for $5. He walked round and round the displays, fascinated. Mostly $1 notes, different designs. He pulled the $1 million bill from his leather jacket’s inside pocket. It looked just as it did five months earlier, except for three deep creases from Rodney’s repeatedly unfolding the bill to look at it. He laid the bill on the display glass. “Whoever printed it printed a helluva bill,” he said.
A worker broke free from another customer and asked Rodney if she could help. He showed her the $1 million bill, his eyes cast down.
“Okay, I’ll have to ask about this,” she said, taking the bill and walking to another worker. She returned seconds later, holding back laughter. Rodney hadn’t noticed.
“Yeah, this isn’t real,” she said.
Rodney managed a slight smile and slipped the bill in his pocket.
“It’s not real,” he said. “Okay, thank you.”
He walked outside. The late morning sun glared down. The promise of driving trucks or collecting scrap metal or raping and robbing could wait one more day. Right now, he needed a ride to the gas station. He carried $10 in his pocket and the lucky numbers on his mind, still struggling to imagine a world without $1 million bills. Maybe if he could quick change the ten spot with the fake note, fooling the clerk…
The “Gift” of Diversity Never Stops Giving
Dec 22nd
Illegal alien mexishit arrested for slashing throat of elderly woman
Where would our country be without the wonderful diversity that pieces of shit like Ricardo bring?
On Wednesday, police in Slidell, LA, arrested an illegal spic for slashing the throat of his 84-year-old neighbor with a razor blade. The attack left an 8-inch gash in the woman’s throat, her assailant stole about $65 in cash.
The octogenarian victim survived the attack and later identified the “man” who did odd jobs for her, Ricardo Tenorio-Palma, 20, as the scum bag wet back who tried to kill her.
Slidell Police Capt. Kevin Swann said: “It wasn’t like he demanded money; he stabbed her first. He slashed her first, before he robbed her. He intended to kill her,”
Police allege that on Wednesday afternoon, Tenorio-Palma entered the woman’s home through a door she always left slightly open for her cat.
Punching and kicking, the woman fought off her attacker until the loss of blood and fatigue set in. Left bleeding on the floor, the woman then activated her medical alert necklace.
…….
Tenorio-Palma has been living in Slidell for at least nine months. He was living just across the street from his alleged victim with his brother and three other unidentified men.
The victim recently paid the taco bender to string-up Christmas lights on her house, and in the past, had given him furniture and other household items.
Chief Drennan said that soon after being arrested, Tenorio-Palma “admitted readily” to the attack and robbery.
Tenorio-Palma sits in St. Tammany Jail, and has been charged with attempted first-degree murder and armed robbery. If convicted, he faces a possible sentence of up to 99 years in prison.
Ghetto Brawl Video
Dec 21st
BCU President Troubled By Disturbance Aftermath
This is what a “traditionally black college” looks like. To me it looks like they took dorm housing and turned it into something like project housing or prison.
I present the future leaders of America.
DAYTONA BEACH, Fla. — Several people are working behind the scenes to resolve a dispute between the Daytona Beach Police Department and Bethune Cookman University, but the university president fired another salvo in a newspaper opinion piece Tuesday.
No one argues that the dorm disturbance recorded by campus security cameras and student cell phones at BCU was ugly, but in the article, university President Dr. Trudie Reed called the aftermath troubling.
She wrote that despite the university’s efforts to be forthcoming with the media and cooperative with police, what has emerged is misleading. She said it suggests the university is trying to hide something.
“You may not like the term melee. You may not like the term free-for-all, and you may not like that I did my job and we went and got a subpoena. That’s how things work,” Daytona Beach Police Chief Mike Chitwood said.
Last week, Chitwood stood by his comments that what erupted in the dorm was more than a disturbance and said it took a court order to collect all of the video from the university for the criminal investigation.
In the newspaper Tuesday, Reed called that vexing. She claims the university was asked to give over what they had and interpreted that to mean videos of the first-floor hallway and dorm exteriors. Reed wrote there was no intent to hide other videos, the university just wasn’t asked for them. A subpoena, she writes, taints the university’s integrity and said justice won’t be served if the university remains under the cloud of cover-up.
Reed and Chitwood will hold a joint press conference at the police department Wednesday.
SURPRISE! Blacks Abusing Social Welfare Programs.
Dec 16th
32 Accused of $60M in Medicare Fraud in 3 States
We don’t need health care reform, we need nigger reform. Give a nigger a fish and he’ll eat for a day, teach a nigger to fish and….HAHAH…good luck!
FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. (AP) – Federal agents arrested 26 suspects in three states Tuesday, including a doctor and nurses, in a major crackdown on Medicare fraud totaling $61 million in separate scams.
….
Arrests in Miami, Brooklyn and Detroit included a Florida doctor accused of running a $40 million home health care scheme that falsely listed patients as blind diabetics so that he could bill for twice-daily nurse visits.
Black Gangs Violently Targetting Whites in Denver.
Dec 9th
Police Say Black Gangs Are Targeting White Men In Denver
DENVER – Police believe a series of violent attacks in downtown Denver between July 17 and September 20 of this year were motivated by racial hatred of white people by the black suspects.
Explosive new information revealed today, in the arrest warrants issueed to nearly three dozen gang members accused in a series of attacks in the LoDo area. Police say the attacks have occurred over the last four months, involving numerous victims, some of whom were beaten severely and seriously injured.
Arrest affidavits released by the Denver Police Department show a pattern of racially charged statements by the attackers preceding most of the attacks.
According to the documents, the suspects told police they specifically targeted white men, they called “crackers”. They would approach a victim saying things like “it smells like white people” and “i hate (expletive) white people.” The suspects told police they felt two black gangs “owned” sections of LoDo near The Bash nightclub and wanted to beat up white men in that area to teach them not to come downtown unless they “brought their friends for protection.’
Many of the suspects were blunt in their motivations when they were interviewed by detectives.
Savage Nigger Smashes Face of Elderly White Man
Dec 9th
http://www.wpxi.com/news/21788662/detail.html
Sister Talks After Brother, 72, Punched In Face At Walmart
Da true victim in alla dis mess
His “whiteness” offended a downtrodden treasure of diversity
NORTH VERSAILLES, Pa. — An elderly Walmart greeter was punched in the face and seriously hurt outside the store in North Versailles.
Channel 11 News got surveillance video of the incident, which happened Tuesday night. The video shows a man walking up to Thomas Jenkins, 72, of McKeesport, and knocking him to ground. Police identified the suspect as Paul Washington, 55, of North Versailles.
……
Jenkins’ twin sister, Betty Evans, said there was blood everywhere.
“He suffered a stroke and was on blood thinnner (before the attack), so there was blood everywhere after the attack,” said Evans. “Whoever did this was very cruel.” (Nah. Just the nigger way.)
Evans said her brother’s mouth is so swollen that he can’t talk. She said the bones in his face are swollen and surgery has been postponed.
Police are investigating a report that Jenkins may have asked Washington to show his receipt when he left the store earlier this week. Washington told police Jenkins bumped into him, police said.(Well, he clearly had it coming then: he was racial profiling!)
“He just cold cocked him. He went up there, and there was no, ‘Hey, you.’ He just went up and whacked him,” said North Versailles police Chief James Comunale.
Police said Washington calmly walked away, leaving Jenkins on the ground as if nothing ever happened.
Several people witnessed the punch, including a police sergeant.
“They’re all pointing to the car. Everyone is pointing to the car saying, ‘That guy, there — he hit him. He hit him.’ We were just in the right place at the right time. Thank God, because this guy has a lot of facial injuries,” said Comunale.
The punch broke all of the bones of the left side on Jenkins’ face.
“That’s a shame. That’s not right,” said Walmart shopper Drew Brucker.
When Jenkins’ neighbors found out about the attack, they were shocked.
“He would never be mean to anyone,” said neighbor Regina Couch. “I can’t believe this happened to him. It’s just him and his dogs, and I can’t understand why someone would hurt him.”(because this is what niggers do!)
“Why? Why would anyone do this to a 72-year … I’m getting choked up,” said neighbor Kelly Argyle.(because this is what niggers do!!!! Hell-ohhhhh?!)
Washington is charged with assault, harassment, disorderly conduct, public drunkenness and criminal mischief. He is being held at the Allegheny County Jail.
Will these dots ever be connected: niggers equal violence and criminality. Or will the aggrieved continue to ask “why” while holding on to the canard that “we are all the same”?
Burning the elderly alive:a job Americans just wont do
Dec 3rd
Illegal alien burns elderly woman alive, gets life
Don’t you feel enriched by the diversity he brings and knowing there’s millions more just like him out there?
“Seen-your, I wass only helping my cuz-een do thee jobs that thee greengoes we-ill not do…”
An illegal alien has been sentenced to life in prison for breaking into an 83-year-old woman’s home, grabbing her by the throat, smashing her head into furniture, saturating her with gasoline and setting her body on fire while she was still alive – all to cover up his check-fraud scam after she hired him to cut her lawn.
Ramon Alvarado, 33, and his cousin, Jose Alvarado, 37, were hired to do yard work for Lila Meizel at her home in Wheaton, Md. They worked for the woman for two years, and Meizel often gave the men soda, food and extra tips.
Jose’s wife, Ana Rodas, 33, was also arrested in connection with the murder that took place the day before Thanksgiving last year. Ramon was convicted of murder, arson and conspiracy in October. On Monday, he was sentenced to two consecutive life terms – one without parole – plus an additional 30 years for arson.
She needs a Sharpie marker to draw in her eye brows like the other mestiza chicks do.
A Montgomery County jail official confirmed that all three were illegal aliens. According to reports, they are from El Salvador and have lived in the United States for more than 10 years. The Gaithersburg Gazette reported Immigration and Customs Enforcement had detainers on all three defendants, flagging them for possible federal charges and deportation proceedings.
According to prosecutors, Meizel gave the men a $75 check for landscaping work. Jose added two zeros to the number, agreeing to give his cousin $1,200 and Rodas $1,000. They used the $7,500 to buy a car, computer and clothes. Ramon and Jose pre-emptively conspired to kill Meizel when the two believed they might be caught.
Firefighters found Meizel in her burning home and pulled her outside, but they were unable to resuscitate her. A firefighter and two police officers sustained injuries in the blaze.
Both Ramon and Jose Alvarado had previous criminal records in Montgomery County.(Not a problem at all for Mike Huckabee. He’d have let them out). Jose had a history of check fraud, according to the Washington Examiner. Ramon had a warrant out for his arrest for driving a car without a license or registration. Rodas had no criminal history.
Montgomery’s top prosecutor called the murder case the most horrific he has seen since taking office, according to the Washington Post.
An autopsy revealed Ramon caused Meizel to suffer a brain hemorrhage and fractured seven of her ribs. She had soot in her lungs and burned tissue in the back of her throat, indicators that she was alive when he set her on fire. Most of her body was charred and her face was unrecognizable.
“The inhumane manner you chose to exterminate a lady well into the autumn years of her life strongly suggests that you are sadistic,” Montgomery County Circuit Court Judge Terrence J. McGann told Ramon Alvarado. “A civilized society demands that you be in prison for the remainder of your life.”
During Ramon’s trial, Judge McGann said he could not look at the autopsy photos “very long without gagging.”
“I’m going to put these in the envelope so they don’t turn anyone else’s stomach,” he said.
…….
Jose Alvarado pleaded guilty to first-degree murder on June 3 and faces up to life in prison. Rodas pleaded guilty June 3 to accessory after the fact and faces up to five years in prison.
“I lost my head,” Jose Alvarado told the Washington Post, speaking from a pay phone last year inside the Montgomery County jail. “I don’t know what to say. It just happened suddenly. I was tempted by demons.”
Meizel’s daughter described her mother as “a very trusting woman,” saying she was satisfied with Ramon’s services.
“When it came to hiring people for her lawn, she was happy with this man,” she said.
…….
She called 9-1-1 just before being beaten to death with a blunt object outside of her home.
http://www.wnd.com/index.php?fa=PAGE.view&pageId=117083
If anyone is wondering about the race of the victim: judging by the name and the picture I’ve seen, she is definitely not White. She’s every bit as alien looking as these three scum bags. Her fate at the hands of these savages is no less tragic, however, as there are few octogenarians of any race who deserve what happened here.
Cop Killer Follow Up: nigger shooter dead, 4 other shitskins arrested
Dec 2nd
http://www.komonews.com/news/local/78267897.html
LAKEWOOD, Wash. — Four people accused of helping the suspected gunman in the killing of four Lakewood police officers in a Parkland coffee shop evade police have been arrested.
Four were booked into the Pierce County Jail on Monday and early Tuesday for investigation of rendering criminal assistance on four counts of first-degree murder. They are Rickey Hinton, Eddie Lee Davis, Douglas Edward Davis and Darcus Allen.
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Clemmons’ half brother, Rickey Hinton, has not been charged yet, but has been booked into jail for investigation of rendering criminal assistance. Chushcoff set his bail at $2 million.
Allen, who was booked late Tuesday afternoon, has not appeared in court. He is being held under investigation of four counts of rendering criminal assistant and one count of making false statements to investigators.
Pierce County Det. Ed Troyer said Allen has served time in an Arkansas prison with Clemmons, investigators said. He was sentenced to 25 years in prison for a 1990 double murder at a Little Rock liquor store. He was paroled in 2004.(Did the Huckster help this nigger get out too?!)
……
Troyer said while there are four people under arrest now, more arrests could happen as investigators piece together how other people might have helped Clemmons after the shooting.
“We are not going to rest until everyone involved in this murder is brought to justice,” Troyer said.
According to court documents, Clemmons had shown two handguns to the three arrested men at his Auburn-area home the night before the shootings and told them he was going to shoot police. He asked for the keys to Hinton’s truck.
On Sunday morning, detectives said Clemmons returned to the home and told Hinton he had been shot and that he had shot police officers. Hinton gave Clemmons the keys to a white Pontiac and told the Davis’ to get Clemmons out of there. Hilton then tossed his cell phone to his 12-year-old son or grandson(I don’t nose wich it be; I fogets dat sheeit) and told him to start deleting all of Clemmons’ phone numbers out of the address book, according to court documents.
The Davis’ later told detectives that as they drove Clemmons away, he told them he had “taken care of business,” the document said. They went to a friend’s home in the Algona/Pacific area where a female relative of Clemmons helped clean treat the gunshot wound to his torso, detectives said. Clemmons changed clothes and put his own clothes into a bag.
Clemmons got into a car with the woman while the Davis’ got into the Pontiac and they all four headed to the Auburn Super Mall(dis a good a times az any ta do sum shoppin’), where they met up with a female friend of Clemmons, documents said.
As Clemmons drove off with that friend, he called friends who lived in the 3800 block of East Superior Street in Seattle’s Leschi neighborhood and told him he needed a place to stay and he was bringing a gun, and the residents agreed.
However, police say when those friends called Clemmons’ relatives in Algona, they learned Clemmons had been shot and said he had shot some police officers in Tacoma. The residents left the home before Clemmons arrived and drove to the police station to tell police what they learned.
Meanwhile, Clemmons was dropped off at the home. The first Seattle officers arrived and noticed an African-American man on foot near a home and the woman driving away. Police stopped the woman as she was driving away and found a piece of clothing that had a bullet wound in front plus evidence of gauze and bandages, documents said. An 11-hour standoff ensued at the home on Superior Street, but Clemmons had somehow managed to get away.
……
Maurice Clemmons was carrying a handgun he took from one of the dead officers when a Seattle policeman recognized him near a stolen car on Kenyon Street at about 2:45 a.m., Assistant Police Chief Jim Pugel said.
The vehicle was running but unoccupied when the officer pulled up, radioed in the license plate number and realized the car was stolen, Pugel said.
As the officer was doing his paperwork, he caught something moving behind him. He turned around and saw a man walking on the street behind his car, approaching the driver’s side, police said. The officer got out of his car, immediately recognized the man as Clemmons and ordered him to show his hands and stop.
Clemmons refused, and while the officer was drawing his gun, the man reached into his waist and moved, police said.
“He wouldn’t stop,” Pugel said. “The officer fired several rounds.”(Will Jesse and Al be holding a vigil, or would that be too tacky even for them?)
Clemmons was struck at least twice, police said. After Clemmons was pronounced dead, officers found a gun in Clemmons’ front pocket.
A fitting end for a feral beast. Reminds me of the toppling of King Kong.
Tiger Woods Muh Dicks and Chimps Out
Dec 2nd
Tiger Woods accepts full blame for car crash
The Golden Brown Turd Idol of the Anti-White sports world has finally done what we all knew would happen eventually.
Tiger Woods allowed his black genes to win out over his gook genes and he was discovered to be muhdicking another nasty mudshark.
Two days after the National Enquirer broke the story on his 911 was called after the asian/negro crashed his car into a fire hydrant and then a tree on his own property at 2:30 in the morning. According to Tiger Woods his wife smashed the car window with a golf club to save him from the wreckage……AHAHAH.
This was quite obviously a domestic altercation. Can you blame this ugly mongrel’s beautiful white wife (Elin Nordegren) for being upset? She shat out two tri-breed genetic mutants for him and he goes and muhdicks some nasty skank named Rachel Uchitel. HAH, serves her right!
I knew eventually something like this would happen, it was just a matter of time.
Woods crashed about 2:30 a.m. Friday just after he left his Isleworth home. His Cadillac Escalade hit a hydrant and a tree. Woods, who was reported as unconscious at the scene, was taken to a nearby hospital and later released.
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He pulled out of his charity tournament this week. Woods has not spoken publicly about the crash, except for a statement on his Web site where he accepted responsibility and asked for privacy.
Earlier Tuesday, attorney Bill Sharpe represents the family of Linda Adams, including her son, Jarius, who is believed to have called 911 after the wreck. They are neighbors of Woods in the gated community of Isleworth near Orlando.
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According to Sharpe, members of the Adams family were up Friday around 2:30 a.m. and heard the crash outside their home.Jarius ran outside and found Woods lying on the ground, with his wife, Elin Woods, watching over him. Elin Woods told the son to call 911.
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