Democrat Adam Schiff’s committee formally presented its findings to the House Judiciary Committee on Monday, bringing the House one step closer to a formal vote to impeach President Trump.
A convicted burglar who assaulted and raped women and children during a two-week rampage across Britain while wrongly free from jail was given 33 life sentences on Monday, with the judge saying he would never cease to be a danger to society. Joseph McCann, 34, was convicted of 37 offences relating to 11 victims aged between 11 and 71, committed in April and May this year. Sentencing him at London's Old Bailey Court, judge Andrew Edis said he was "a coward, a violent bully and a paedophile".
Democratic presidential frontrunner Joe Biden said his son Hunter will not be engaged in any foreign business if the former vice president is elected in 2020.“They will not be engaged in any foreign business because of what's happened in this administration,” Biden told "Axios on HBO."Hunter Biden raised eyebrows when it came to light that he held a lucrative position on the board of a Ukrainian gas company while his father was fighting corruption in Ukraine as vice president. The set-up prompted Trump to ask Ukraine to investigate the Bidens while temporarily withholding U.S. military aid, an alleged quid pro quo that became the basis for the impeachment inquiry against Trump.“I don't know what he was doing. I know he was on the board. I found out he was on the board after he was on the board and that was it,” Biden said.A photo from the summer of 2014 shows Biden, then vice president, and his son Hunter with Devon Archer, who, like the younger Biden, served on the board of Burisma Holdings, the Ukrainian energy company."No. Because I trust my son," Biden responded when asked whether he wanted to get to the bottom of his son's business dealings.The former vice president added that he is not worried since there is "not one single bit of evidence" and "nothing on its face that was wrong."Biden cited the business conflicts of interest of members of President Trump's family for his decision to have his family eschew foreign business opportunities, saying, "if you want to talk about problems, let's talk about Trump's family."Trump has been criticized for allegedly encouraging government spending at his luxury resorts, including floating his Miami golf resort as an ideal spot to host the 2020 G-7 summit.
At least five people have died and more than 20 are still unaccounted for after the White Island/Whakaari volcano off the coast of New Zealand erupted without warning Monday as tourists hiked around the rim and walked inside the crater. Authorities say an estimated 30 to 38 of those on the island when the volcano erupted were on an adventure excursion from a Royal Caribbean cruise ship that was docked on North Island about 30 miles away. In a statement just after midnight local time, police officials said they feared the worst for those still on the island.“The Police Eagle helicopter, rescue helicopter, and NZDF aircraft have undertaken a number of aerial reconnaissance flights over the island since the eruption,” according to a statement at 12:12 a.m.“No signs of life have been seen at any point. Police believe that anyone who could have been taken from the island alive was rescued at the time of the evacuation,” it reads.“Based on the information we have, we do not believe there are any survivors on the island.”Kevin O’Sullivan, chief executive of the New Zealand Cruise Association and Royal Caribbean cruise lines, confirmed that tourists from the Ovation of the Seas ship were involved. He said the names and nationalities of those who were on the volcano for the cruise line’s “epic adventure excursion” have been handed to New Zealand police. Authorities said they believe it may be some time before the toxic ash is cool enough to set foot on the volcano for what is likely to be a recovery mission.About 10 minutes before the volcano erupted at 2:11 p.m. local time, a crater-rim webcam owned by the New Zealand Geological Hazards Agency GeoNet captured an image of a group of tourists approaching the crater. The next image shows only crumpled hardware after the camera was damaged in the blast.John Tims, New Zealand National Operation Commander, told a news conference Monday that toxic gases, burning ash, and lava have made conditions unsafe for rescue crews to search for survivors on the island. The dead were among 23 people immediately evacuated after the eruption. All those rescued had burn injuries. Officials said the five who died were among those evacuated.Officials in Canberra told the Agence-France Press news agency they believed a “considerable number” of those involved in the disaster are Australian.Authorities say around 50 people were on the tiny 1.2 mile-square-mile island at the time it erupted without warning. Several tourists posted photos of the eruption on social media as they watched in horror as the volcano erupted, sending a plume of hot ash some two miles into the sky. Michael Schade, an engineering manager from San Francisco, posted footage of the eruption from an excursion vessel he and several others were on as it sped away. “This is so hard to believe,” Schade wrote. “Our whole tour group were literally standing at the edge of the main crater not 30 minutes before.” The active volcano encompasses all of the tiny privately owned island about 30 miles from New Zealand’s North Island. It has been in a constant state of volcanic activity for more than 150,000 years. The last major eruption was in 2001, though the volcano has spewed spouts of dangerous steam from its vents in recent years. Despite the dangerous volcanic state, more than 10,000 adventure tourists visit the island each year, paying landing license to the island’s owners. The island also hosts a mobile research station but no residential accommodation, and tourists are warned of the potential for eruption and made to sign waivers regarding the potential danger they face on the live volcano, according to several websites offering volcano tours. “White Island has been a disaster waiting to happen for many years,” Professor Emeritus Ray Cas, from Monash University’s School of Earth, Atmosphere and Environment in Melbourne, Australia, told The Wall Street Journal. “Having visited it twice, I have always felt that it was too dangerous to allow the daily tour groups that visit the uninhabited island volcano by boat and helicopter.”New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern was heading to Whakatāne in the Bay of Plenty, which is the closest safe area to the disaster zone. She told reporters the situation was still “significant and evolving.” “We know that there were a number of tourists on or around the island at the time, both New Zealanders and visitors from overseas,” she said. “I know there will be a huge amount of concern and anxiety for those who had loved ones on or around the island at the time. I can assure them that police are doing everything they can.”Read more at The Daily Beast.Got a tip? Send it to The Daily Beast hereGet our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.
Pete Buttigieg implied that he would take money off billionaires and closed-door fundraisers during a terse exchange with a student activist, amid growing criticism of the Democratic candidate’s fundraising strategy.The 2020 presidential candidate has come under scrutiny for his decision to take money from wealthy donors after a number of Democrats have pledged to take “big money” out of politics.
Depends if it actually happened.
I OVERCAME THE DESPERATION I FELT AFTER STEPPING DOWN FROM CONGRESS, AND I'M STILL IN THE FIGHT.On Nov. 6, 2018, I was elected to Congress; at 31, I was one of the youngest women ever elected to the House of Representatives. One year later, I was sitting on a train to New York to meet with my lawyers about suing The Daily Mail for cyber exploitation -- and I was no longer a member of Congress.A few days earlier, on Oct. 31, 2019, I stepped up to the microphone to deliver my final speech on the house floor. It was the first time I had spoken publicly since my relationship with a campaign staffer was exposed, since naked photos of me -- taken without my knowledge and distributed without my consent -- had been posted online, since wild accusations from my estranged husband about a supposed affair with a congressional staffer (which I have repeatedly denied), since I had resigned my hard-fought seat in Congress. I had barely gotten used to giving such speeches. Over the past year I had awkwardly learned, with many fumbles, how to perform the ritual that so many had done before me: formally ask the speaker of the House for recognition, walk to the lectern and smoothly position it to the correct height, adjust the microphone so it isn't blocking your face and look at the clock so the C-Span cameras can see you. Talk slowly and fluidly. Breathe; the pauses you take feel much longer than they are.That day, oddly, I didn't get nervous the way I normally did. I got every part of the routine right. I felt calm and strong as I began to speak, because I had to be. I needed to say something to the countless people who had put their faith in me. I needed to say something to the girls and young women who looked up to me, and also to those who didn't even know my name. I needed to make sure that my horrific experience did not frighten and discourage other women who will dare to take risks, dare to step into this light, dare to be powerful.Many people have nightmares in which they're naked in public, trapped and trying to escape. In the days leading up to my resignation, my life was just like everyone's worst nightmare. Millions of people had seen pictures of me naked. Hundreds of journalists, commentators, politicians and public figures had written or spoken about my "downfall," the "choices" I made, the lessons young people should take from what happened to me, the impact it would have on politics moving forward, the responsibility I bore for all of it.I read those articles with the acute sense that writers and readers alike must think I am already dead. I'm not, though sometimes I've wished to be. More than half of the victims of cyber exploitation (also known as revenge porn) contemplate suicide in the aftermath. Many have attempted, and some tragically have succeeded.After the images came out, as I lay curled up in my bed with my mind in the darkest places it's ever been, countless texts and voice mails came from donors, friends, volunteers and voters sending love. But they couldn't drown out the horrible messages and calls from people who found my phone number on the internet.Though staff members at my (now former) offices got tremendous support, they were also inundated with lewd and threatening messages. When a letter filled with suspicious powder arrived at one of my offices, staffers had to be evacuated. My hometown was filled with people who were worried about me, cared about me and wanted to see me, and yet my mom was followed by people in dark trucks with cameras, my sister's business was trolled and my dad drove around our hometown pulling down huge posters of his baby girl in a Nazi uniform with the text "WifenSwappenSS."Sitting on that train to New York a few days after my resignation had taken effect, reflecting on what my life had become, I realized that it was almost one year to the minute from when I received a voice mail from my predecessor, Steve Knight, to concede -- when I found out I was going to be a congresswoman.I was in the campaign headquarters the morning he called. The team had been working around the clock for months or longer -- some people had been with the campaign for over a year -- as we clawed our way to victory in a race that no one thought we could win. When I announced my candidacy, I was 29 years old, working at a homeless services nonprofit organization and had been driven to run for office because of the results of the 2016 presidential election. I was a complete unknown, a young bisexual woman with no political background or experience, no wealth, no Ivy League degree, trying to flip a district that had been held by Republicans for over two decades.When I finished listening to the voice mail from my opponent, I turned around and told my team. Countless people across the country have witnessed that moment -- Vice captured it as part of a documentary series called "She's Running." Most people on my team cried, but I didn't. I couldn't really tell you how I felt then. Shock isn't quite right -- I had felt like we'd win for a long time -- though it certainly felt surreal.I was aware that my life was about to change substantially, but it had already changed so much that I felt like I was just shifting gears. I was excited. I felt ready for it. I knew I was a leader, that I represented my community, that I reflected the change that the country wanted and needed. I knew that I could be a voice for young people and women and people who had been left out for far too long. That I had to be.Once I got to Washington, I was one of two people elected to represent the freshman class at the leadership table, and once I started sitting in meetings multiple times each week with Speaker Nancy Pelosi and the other most powerful Democrats in the House, I knew I belonged there, too. I didn't feel awkward or unsure. I was completely confident. I felt like my district loved me (and the polling showed it) and I knew I was making a difference to so many people even just by showing them they could have a voice at the highest levels of power.The job was hard -- I made some missteps, there were plenty of things I could have done better, and I had so much to learn. But I was figuring it out fast. I was good at this. My future in Congress was limitless, and that mattered not only to me but to the people who believed in me.My home life was another story. That day on the train to New York was also five months to the day from when I moved out of my house and told my husband, who I had been with since I was 16 years old, that I wanted a divorce. It wasn't the first time I had tried to leave; the last time was less than a month before the election, and when I tried, he made it clear to me that if I left, he would ruin me. I knew he could, so I went back to him and finished the campaign. But, after five months on the job and with the toxicity of our relationship growing worse, I knew I had to finally leave once and for all.In June, my dad came with me to my house. I got my things, moved in with my mom, and didn't look back. The fear that my husband would ruin me hung over me every day. I knew the risk when I left, but I thought I didn't have a choice, and despite the threat, I felt better than I had in years.The day that my communications director ran into my office and showed me the nudes and private text messages that had been published on a right-wing website called Red State, everything came crashing down. I believe my husband is the source of the images. (He has reportedly denied this; his father said in an interview that his son believed he had been hacked. My husband and his lawyer did not respond to requests from the Times for comment.) At first, I was in denial. I couldn't accept that the future I had imagined as a leader in Congress -- the job I loved and knew I was making a difference by being in -- was over.I was thinking about all of this as I went to see my lawyers. Suddenly, the train stopped. We sat there for a long time, wondering what had happened. Then someone announced that a person had jumped in front of the train, and died. My thoughts shifted to the person on the tracks while we waited for the police to investigate and for the coroner to arrive. I knew the despair that can lead someone to that place all too well. I had been there just a week before.People have speculated that Speaker Pelosi or the party leadership asked me to resign because of the photos and the allegations about me. That could not be further from the truth. In fact, one of the most difficult moments during my resignation process was my phone call to the Speaker, a woman I admire more than anyone and who I had come to love. She told me I didn't have to do this, that the country needed me and that she wished I hadn't made this decision, but she respected me and what I felt I needed to do. I told her what I told everyone else when I announced my resignation: that it was the right thing to do.I knew it was the best decision for me, my family, my staff, my colleagues, my community. But that didn't make it any easier, and in the days that followed, I was overwhelmed by everything -- by how many people had seen my naked body, by the comments, the articles, the millions of opinions, the texts, the calls. I would start shaking, crying, throwing up. It was hard to talk to my family because I knew they were going through so much, too. I didn't want to talk to my friends because I was humiliated and didn't want to hear more pity and didn't know what to say. Many of my staff members had been with me for years, and we were, for better or worse, very close; now I feared that they all hated me.I didn't leave my apartment. I felt so alone and didn't know what to do.It was two days after I announced my resignation. I don't even know how I spent the day. I was probably reading articles about myself that I shouldn't have been reading, ignoring more text messages and calls, falling in and out of restless sleep. But when it got dark I drew a bath, lit candles and brought over a bottle of wine.I laid there and thought about what I'd lost. The people on my team and in my life who had been hurt and had done nothing wrong. Everyone I'd let down, everyone who worked for me, who campaigned for me, who believed in me. The future I thought was in store for me that was instantly and irrevocably gone. My own mistakes had led me there, but there were other things at play. And those pictures -- no one should have ever seen them.How could I ever face anyone again knowing what they'd seen? Knowing what they knew?The bath water had gone cold. The wine bottle was empty. Suddenly and with total clarity, I just wanted it all to be over. I got up and looked for the box cutter. I couldn't find it. A part of my brain was saying: "Stop it, this is stupid. You're not going to do it. Go drain the bathtub and get yourself together." But I felt like I was out of my body, like it was moving without me, and I got the paring knife and got back into the cold bath.I stared at the veins in my wrists. They were so thin. They were green in the candlelight. I started tracing them with the edge of the knife, lightly at first, then pushing harder and harder. The knife was duller than I thought. It surprised me how hard I had to push simply to scratch the surface. Fine red lines started to appear, and I knew that if I pushed just a tiny bit harder I would start to bleed. I thought about the people I had already let down so much. What would this do to my parents? To my brother and sister?And then I thought about my supporters. I thought about the high school students who had told me how I inspired them. I thought about the Girl Scouts whose troops I'd visited who told me they wanted to grow up to be like me, and how their parents would explain this to them, and what it would do to them. And I realized I couldn't do it. I ran the campaign knowing it was bigger than me and what I wanted, and it still is. I don't get to quit. I have to keep going forward, and be part of the fight to create the change that those young girls are counting on.The next day, I wrote my final speech. My roommate, Lauren Underwood, the youngest black woman ever elected to Congress and my best friend in Washington, gave me a goodbye party with my freshman colleagues. I spent the evening with history-makers, change-makers, majority-makers, role models and heroes to millions. Some great men, but mostly women. Women who will be remembered forever. But that night, they were just my friends.At the end of the evening, I sat uncomfortably on a bar stool and cried as my friends went around the room and said the nicest things -- things I needed to hear. Each and every one of them told me that I wasn't done. Alex -- "A.O.C.," as people like to call her -- said I was a warrior and always would be.So the next day I put on my battle uniform: a red dress suit that my mom had bought me. I put on my war paint: bright red lipstick. I stepped up to that lectern and told the world that although my time in Congress was over, I wasn't done -- I was just moving to another battlefield. I closed my speech, saying: "We will not stand down. We will not be broken. We will not be silenced. We will rise, and we will make tomorrow better than today. … I yield the balance of my time for now, but not forever." I meant that not just for myself, but for all of us.I don't know exactly what's ahead for me, and I know there's a lot more pain ahead. But I'm in the fight, and I'm glad it's not all over after all.This article originally appeared in The New York Times.(C) 2019 The New York Times Company
Despite being one poll away from qualifying for the December debate, the Hawaii Congresswoman stated she wouldn't attend the debate.
Rep. Matt Gaetz said it would play to the “president’s advantage” to have his top administration officials testify in the upcoming impeachment hearings.
This city's deepest wound - the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings that killed three and injured hundreds more - will be re-examined Thursday when lawyers for bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev seek to have his death sentence lifted because the jury pool was too traumatized to render a fair verdict. The then-19-year old Tsarnaev and his 26-year-old brother Tamerlan sparked five days of panic in Boston that began April 15, 2013, when they detonated a pair of homemade pressure cooker bombs at the race's packed finish line. The pair eluded capture for days, punctuated by a gunbattle with police in Watertown that killed Tamerlan and led to a daylong lockdown of Boston and most of its suburbs while heavily armed officers and troops conducted a house-to-house search for Dzhokhar.
The Republican lawyer made a very practical choice of briefcase.
The Saudi air force trainee who killed three sailors at a U.S. Navy base last week reportedly made an official complaint about being called “Pornstache” by one of his instructors.
Harvard biologist George Church already had to apologize for palling around with Jeffrey Epstein even after the financier pleaded to guilty to preying on minors a decade ago. Now he’s raising eyebrows again—with plans for a genetics-based dating app.In an interview with 60 Minutes, Church said his technology would pair people based on the propensity of their genes, when combined in children, to eliminate hereditary diseases. “That sounds like eugenics,” Fordham adjunct ethics professor and science journalist Elizabeth Yuko, who studies bioethics, told The Daily Beast on Monday. (The tech and science news site Gizmodo called Church’s idea “an app only a eugenicist could love.”)Yuko compared the app, as described, to the Nazi goal of cultivating a master race: “I thought we realized after World War II that we weren’t going to be doing that,” she said.Church was part of the coterie of scientists with whom Epstein ingratiated himself via large donations, and Epstein helped bankroll his lab from 2005 to 2007. Church has admitted he repeatedly met and spoke with Epstein for years after the 2008 plea deal that landed him on the sex-offender registry.Epstein had a twisted take on genetics, hosting scientific conferences at which he expressed his desire to propagate his own genome by impregnating up to 20 women at a time at his New Mexico ranch, like cattle stock. In the 60 Minutes interview, Church called his ties to Epstein “unfortunate” and added: “You don't always know your donors as well as you would like.”He Took Money From Jeffrey Epstein. Now These Tech Stars Are Defending Him.But much of the segment was devoted to Church’s genetic-engineering work at Harvard Medical School, including the app that would theoretically screen out potential mates with the “wrong” DNA.“You wouldn’t find out who you’re not compatible with. You’ll just find out who you are compatible with,” Church said.“You’re suggesting that if everyone has their genome sequenced and the correct matches are made, that all of these diseases could be eliminated?” 60 Minutes’ Scott Pelley asked.“Right. It’s 7,000 diseases. It’s about 5% of the population. It’s about a trillion dollars a year, worldwide,” Church said. The geneticist didn’t drop the app’s name (“Punnett Square,” anyone?) or how far along it is in development. He also didn’t respond to a request for comment.In the interview, Church acknowledged the drawbacks of genetic sorting. He suffers from dyslexia, attention deficit disorder, and narcolepsy—disorders that might render him an incompatible match to many.“If somebody had sequenced your genome some years ago, you might not have made the grade in some way,” Pelley said.“I mean, that’s true,” Church replied. “I would hope that society sees the benefit of diversity, not just ancestral diversity, but in our abilities. There’s no perfect person.”Famed MIT Computer Scientist Who Defended Epstein ResignsYuko said the selection criteria would be a sticking point for Church’s app idea. “It’s not clear what conditions or diseases will be screened for. Who makes that list? What’s undesirable?” she said. “That’s classifying people into acceptable humans and others.”Read more at The Daily Beast.Get our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.
Alyse Parker grew her 728,000-strong following by posting about veganism under the name "Raw Alignment." She's now performed a complete U-turn.