Quantcast
Channel: VICE US
Viewing all 55411 articles
Browse latest View live

Partying Inside Toronto's Time-Warped Galleria Mall

$
0
0


Left: a party-goer poses in front of an art installation made of plastic shopping bags. Right: one of the participants in the mall-themed fashion show. All photos by Jake Kivanc

To some, Toronto's Galleria Mall is a "time warp"—a memory cave made of stucco and yellowed tile, a baseball card vending machine, and run-down rides shaped like speedboats and video game characters. To others, it's just a place to buy groceries and liquor in the city's semi-industrial—but evolving—northwest end.

But on Saturday night, it was all that and more. In the cavernous mall atrium, Toronto punk bands Teenanger and S.H.I.T. played across from a snack booth staffed by irate old ladies. In an empty storefront, DJs spun minimal techno at what was effectively a club inside the mall, line out the door and all, called "Shoppers Dance Mart." The name seemed to be taking the piss out of the massive signs bearing budget brand logos looming over the bands outside.

In one corner of the mall sat a giant fake bird head illuminated by multicolored lights. In another, a dude dressed like Steve Jobs in jorts danced to Top 40 pop in front of a motion-capture device, which outfitted him with a giant, swinging, paint-splattering dick on the screen behind him. It wasn't exactly the usual scene for a mall, where the most exciting thing likely to happen to you is the aftermath of downing some of its suspicious-looking sushi for sale.

The mall's transformation was the work of party crews Long Winter and It's Not U It's Me. Long Winter is an annual music and art event series that's maintained some semblance of underground cred over the years, thanks to its founders being members of Toronto punk mainstays Fucked Up, and being adamant about running all-age shows. It's Not U It's Me is a crew of DJs and party-throwers. The two groups came together to run the event, which quickly became one of the year's most-hyped parties so far—the line to get in, if you didn't have a ticket, wound around the outside of the mall.

"The cultural scene in Toronto is made up of people who come from smaller towns, and I think there's something about this space that opens that up for people," said Mike Haliechuk, Fucked Up member and Long Winter organizer. "Whether it's a vision of an easier time or something smaller, it's more manageable than the way other things in Toronto are happening. Downtown is all about the fast-paced life and expense."

"I think it's like a time capsule," chimed in Brian Wong, who heads up It's Not U It's Me. "In a way, hasn't changed in a way where a lot of Toronto has vastly changed. There's a lot of weird otherness coming here, and maybe it can suggest that you can re-envision any weird space to be a utopia."

But let's back up for a second. What made a Saturday night mall party such a huge deal, besides the novelty factor and charm? Well, Galleria Mall is not long for this world. A condo developer in the city recently purchased the property, marking the mall as a sign of Toronto's changing skyline and its associated demographics. In a word: gentrification. Even though Haliechuk and Wong seemed reluctant to mention the word in our interview, it still hung heavy over the gathering. The whole thing had the emotional undercurrent of a going away party, or maybe a wake.


Yoobin Eh snacks on a box of Cheerios she traded for a pack of gum at a Bunz Trading Zone outpost in the mall.

"People value it because it's a mall full of these strange old stores instead of the same corporate stores that you see everywhere," said Julia Dickens, a Toronto-based visual artist who was helping run the Bunz Trading Zone outpost in the mall. "It seems unconcerned with the rest of the world, and there's something really charming about that. I think people feel like maybe it's going to be a bit of a loss when it's redeveloped, so it's nice to have everyone in this space that's weirdly beloved."

At least one band made the tense undercurrent explicit in its performance. VCR, a band of mutant kids who play what sounds like the B-52s meets Black Flag, taunted the crowd, saying, "The highest-paying gig has the worst crowd," and, "Fuck you all." The lead singer had what looked like American cash stuck in his headband and threw them at people while making Danny DeVito faces. "You guys are all assholes, especially the cops," he shouted, "But I'd expect no less from Fucked Up's Cop Fest 2016, but like I said, we're in it for the money."


Teenanger, one of the bands at Long Winter Galleria, performs for a mall packed with partiers.

They weren't exactly subtle.

The comments were, presumably, in reference to the heavy security presence as well as the mall's looming redevelopment and hyped-up going away bash. Long Winter's events are usually well-staffed in the muscle department, in my experience, but the party at Galleria Mall was on another level. Every one of the 700 or so people who went through the entrance had his or her bag thoroughly searched and was patted down, perhaps even more thoroughly, by a line of guards. Although some drugs inevitably made it into the mall, one can only imagine what the collection of confiscated party favors looked like by the end of the night.

Speaking of the end of the night, by the time the second-to-last band, psych-folk band The Highest Order, went on, things were winding down. The scene inside the mall became calmer and more familiar. Groups of people wandered the tiled hallways together; others canoodled on the benches in the atrium, looking a lot like the elderly couples who may have been there just hours before in the day.

It was a Saturday night at the mall, just like it used to be.

Follow Jordan Pearson on Twitter.


Here Are All the Things You’re Going to Have to Deal with This February

$
0
0

"Come to the kitchen, I'm making pancakes!" "Oh, you... you shouldn't have." Photo via Flickr user Paul Albertella

OK, so: February is a trick month, in that you think January is over—"January, January cold and gray / what basic food item can I not afford today"—and you go a bit mad on payday and you yell things like "SHORT MONTH" while throwing wads of $50 bills at your Uber driver, and then you realize: Hold on, February is actually low-key quite miserable.

Like, yes, the ground is dewy and the plants are slowly blooming into life, but also it's still the gray abyss of winter, still everything sucks, still sometimes the wind can hit you so hard you start involuntarily crying out of one eye. And then on top of that, all the shops have Valentine's teddy bears holding little squishy hearts piled up by the tills. How can we love when the world is clawing against us? How can we feel hope when our New Year's diets have already gone by the wayside, dumped in the lay-by of January like a truck driver's murder victim?

Anyway, here's all the stuff you're going to have to deal with this February!

Photo via Flickr user Tejvan Pettinger

IT IS SPRING AND EVERYONE IS HORNY IN A WAY THEY CAN'T EXPRESS

"Look at those firm, stiff daffodils," everyone says. "Heh: lambs, right? You know where lambs come out of? Sheep vaginas." They pause. "After a ram has sex with it. With the vagina." Everyone takes another chip. You are sitting outside in a pub garden, even though it's not quite warm enough to sit outside yet. Everyone is fidgeting and looking from side to side. The sap is rising. Everyone is, ever so subtly, pushing his or her crotch against his or her jeans. Thin sunbeams make everything look bright in that washed out way. Wispy white clouds smudge across a periwinkle sky. "I want to fuck," you croak, your voice dry with an unknowable arousal. "I have to fuck something."

On NOISEY: This Is What It's Like to See Tool Live Again After 21 Years in Prison

IT IS A LEAP DAY AND THAT IS INTERMINABLE

Remember last year when we had a "leap second"—a rare atomic clock thing that meant high-functioning terrestrial clocks were more in tune with distant astronomical time—and it was essentially a complete non-issue for normal God-fearing folks like you and me, because it happened at midnight, and it lasted for a second.

Still, did that stop Terry from accounting from stopping you in the kitchen that day and asking you, "What are you going to do with your extra second, then, eh?" and nudging you while you were trying to pour the milk? So you got milk on you? All for the driest banter this side of the Sahara? Milk all on your suede work shoes? Was it worth it? Terry? Was it? Terry? With your special padded chair that is supposed to be for your RSI, Terry? We know you don't have RSI, Terry. You just wanted a slightly larger, more ominous-looking medically-prescribed chair. Is this how empty a husk your life is, Terrence? That the only remaining power move you have to play is a desk chair and a special wadded pad to go along the edge of your keyboard to slightly lift your wrists. Is it. Terry.

Well, it's 2016 and there's an entire day of it. "What are you going to do with your extra day?" people ask. Well: It is a Monday, so probably just go to work as usual. Meal Deal lunch. Try to get the quick bus home. Something microwavable for dinner. Watch some prestige cable programming you're not sure if you "get." Laundry. Wash up. Wank myself to sleep. Try not to sob at the sheer dreadful forward march of life, life stomping and moving ever forward, each day one creak on the wheel closer to the abyss. Life, the huge and terrible machine. A monstrous, diesel-breathing beetle with metal pincers the size of skyscrapers, picking its way through the idyllic countryside, leaving a grievous black furrow where its ghastly abdomen kissed the mud. Something like that.

LieBot, what is the saddest thing? Photo via Flickr user Michael Coghlan

IT IS SOMEONE'S BIRTHDAY AND THAT IS INTERMINABLE

Ah, yes, the Leap Day birthdayers are here, and this is their year. "Ooh, look at me, I'm seven today!" they say. They have a "SEVEN TODAY!" badge and they are making a big fuss about their Thomas the Tank Engine cake in the office. Blowing out candles and everything. Little pointed birthday hats and genuine thumbs up. On the scale of "people who are inordinately proud about having the most minor and inconsequential of oddities about them," Leap Day birthday people are right up there with the left handers and people who can juggle. Oh, look, he's explaining how normally he celebrates on March 1 while playing with a yoyo. You're 28, mate. Grow up.

A MOMENT WHEN YOU GENUINELY DOUBT YOUR SPELLING ABILITY AND, IN TURN, SAY THE WORD "FEBRUARY" OUT LOUD

What is that "r" doing in there?

VALENTINE'S DAY LOOMS LIKE A HEART-SHAPED SPECTer OF DEATH

There are two kinds of people: those who are extremely cynical about Valentine's Day, and those who think Hallmark cards are actually good. Sadly, all good relationships are built on that sort of chalk-and-cheese natural conflict, and so it all comes to a head on Valentine's Day, where romance likers and non-romance likers are forced to have a $150 meal with each other in a low-lit restaurant, and you have to do flowers, and cards, and little chocolates wrapped in red foil, and you have to pretend that sappiness is OK.

I suppose in small, once-yearly doses romance is actually fine, and that treating the person who loves you and puts up with you for the other 364 days of a year is about the least you can do, and that there is nothing undermining about buying and carrying around a heart-shaped cushion that says "I WUB WOO." There is nothing worse, after all, than stoic, romance-less dickheads who say things like, "It's just a corporate holiday invented to sell them little boxes of chocolate." But does that make it any more bearable to walk into a supermarket that's decked out with shiny heart-shaped bunting? To watch people get massive, unwieldy bouquets of flowers delivered to them at work? No, it does not. It absolutely does not.

MAKING DESPERATE LAST MINUTE VALENTINE'S PLANS

Just a quick warning: If you haven't made Valentine's Day plans and you are planning something any fancier than Chipotle, be warned that that isn't going to happen for you, and that you have fucked it. Everything is booked and it has been booked forever. I don't know how it works in other places, but if you're in a city and you haven't figured Valentine's out yet, then I guess I will see you in the line at Chipotle, me in a suit, furious girlfriend, clenching a bottle of garlic peri-peri while madness erupts around us, romantic tables interrupted occasionally by massive groups of post-workout bros, guacamole drought on the horizon. That will be you and that will be me. And, honestly, we deserve it.

"The mrs found out all them dick pics I sent so I'm selling these now. What do you reckon, eight quid?" Photo via Flickr user Timothy Krause

PEOPLE GETTING ENGAGED AND GOING ON ABOUT IT ON FACEBOOK

I think you can get a pretty decent measure of whether people are good people or not based on the following metric: If they were to get proposed to, would they say the words "popped the question"? Like: "He finally popped the question," or: "I can't believe he popped the question!" or: "Feeling like a princess! Question = popped! xxxxx"?

If yes, this is not a good person. This is not a person you need in your life. This person is going to create a new "life event" on Facebook on February 14 at 9 PM sharp, and literally the next day you are going to get invited to a "Save the Date!" 100+ notification Facebook group. It is best to just quietly unfriend them now.

ALTERNATELY, THE FRENZIED HORNINESS OF KILL-OR-BE-KILLED FEBRUARY 13 TINDER

... or any dating and/or fucking service. OKCupid users, frothing at the mouth, furiously scrolling back through four years' worth of un-responded messages. Plenty of Fish users screaming "THERE ARE NO MORE REMAINING FISH" out of an open window in the direction of a road. Everyone on Happn doing laps of Leicester Square in the hope that, by the law of averages, somebody half-fuckable will pass them by. Tinder users swiping so hard they break their phone screens. That post-apocalyptic, pre-Valentine's blood-in-the-water frenzy. "Drink?" you ask a hundred people in a row. "Drink? Drink? Drink?" You arrange to meet 25 people the next day. They are all white-eyed and tight-knuckled.

Isn't it all meaningless, though? Isn't it all so trite? The hollow loneliness that can only be inspired by other people's joy. The Valentine's Panic. Should we really let the settled, coupled-up numb happiness of others impact upon our own? Should we really care? Yes. The only true chance of happiness we have in this world is clinging to the thin tree branch of someone else's love while our parachute fails and we plummet towards the abyss. The only lasting impression we ever make is on other people. Valentine's Day is a grim reminder of that. Everything is meaningless and love is the only chance at redemption we get. If you don't have any on February 14, hustle until you do. The doomsday clock is ticking and we haven't got long on this Earth. Cling to someone desperately before it's too late. Buy them flowers and tell them they mean something. Tick-tick. Tick-tick. Tick-tick.

Anyway: Happy February!

Follow Joel Golby on Twitter.

Why Video Games Need More ‘Just Good Friends’ Relationships

$
0
0

Fiona and Rhys in 'Tales from the Borderlands'

There's a reason why so many of us cheered at the end of Pacific Rim, when Raleigh Becket and Mako Mori didn't kiss, despite the obvious sexual tension that was prescribed between the two during their combat training scene (a.k.a. the sexiest non-sex scene in video game history). And it's because the bond between Raleigh and Mako made more sense—and stood to be stronger—with the two being friends, rather than lovers.

I celebrated again when playing Telltale Games' Tales from the Borderlands, when Rhys and Fiona—the two playable characters and protagonists of the game—didn't develop a romantic relationship. It's not that I don't want to see every female gaming character at some point reduced to merely a love interest—although, yes, there is also that. Tales showed the gaming medium that using friendship as a focus for conflict, drama, and happiness in a story is just as worthy, bold, and important as exploring any romance that may (stereotypically) blossom from the connection between characters.

What struck me the most about Tales—and believe me when I say there was a lot that struck me profoundly about the game—was the way it so heavily prioritized friendships and platonic love, and all that comes with it, as the driving force behind almost every major conflict resolution. The game deftly allows you to develop and explore important friendships with almost every character: between men, between women, between women and men, between humans and robots, between robots, between major characters and supporting characters, and between supporting characters.

Max and Kate in 'Life Is Strange'

The way in which the flashback-style story is framed—a masked character has kidnapped Fiona and Rhys, and is forcing them to tell their sides of the tale that's led them to this unlikely state—revolves entirely around trying to understand the very nature of friendships, and how trust and respect operate within them. This is all summed up when the masked character is about to reveal his or her identity, telling the pair, "I am your friend." While ostensibly a story about vault hunting on the surface of the savage Pandora, Tales is much more than such a simple sales pitch—it's a beautiful, charming, hilarious, and endearing game that has touched the hearts of even those who previously disliked the Borderlands series, mainly because it positions friendship as the very backbone of its narrative structure.

This focus on friendship is also part of what made Dontnod's (similarly episodic) Life Is Strange so powerful, and impossible to turn away from. Life Is Strange takes the various friendships surrounding a not-quite-ordinary adolescent girl, and has the confidence to turn the friction these connections produce into the lifeblood of a major video game. While Max's ability to rewind time is cool, it's at its most meaningful when she's either helping or hindering friends and schoolmates by messing with their timelines. Ultimately, her power means next to nothing without the heavy focus on her evolving friendships and rivalries. This is what makes every interaction with the supporting character Kate so poignant: Max is burdened with a whole new level of responsibility when it's evident that her power can be used to potentially save somebody's life—and it might not always be there right when you need it.

Jonas and Alex in 'Oxenfree'

In these games, friendships are king. It doesn't matter whether you build them or destroy them—they are the axis on which everything else in the game turns. And it's great that the precedent set by these 2015 releases is continuing into 2016 and beyond.

The recently released Oxenfree offers the same experience as Tales from the Borderlands: an exciting world teeming with possibility, stories, and the promise of something more just at the edge of the map. Developed and published by Night School, Oxenfree is a game about being teenagers on an empty island (Edward's Island, namely), trying to have fun and getting into more paranormal trouble than they expected. Edward's Island works like Pandora in Tales: It is its own world, and it feels like it continues to exist even when the game is turned off. (Unsurprisingly, one of the creators of Oxenfree was also a writer on the first episode of Tales from the Borderlands.) And just like Tales, what makes Oxenfree more than just an aesthetically attractive game with a high creep factor, is that friendships are positioned as the ultimate narrative driving force.

Article continues after the video below

Related: Watch VICE's new film in our 'The Real' series, The Real 'Better Call Saul'

Oxenfree is a charming game—well, as charming a game about terrifying ghosts and possessed teenagers can be—where the main challenge lies in how you develop, or fail to develop, friendships with the people around you. While there's a lot of exploring to do on the island, the crux of the gameplay is conversation based. Playing as a girl called Alex, your choices in various calm discussions, crucial debates, and heated arguments can influence how the other four kids (including your soon-to-be step-brother, Jonas) stuck on the island feel about you—and also how they feel about each other. This elevates the way the game talks about friendship; it realizes and respects the fact that two people talking about a third person, who's not present at the time, can lead to a different perception of said third party when next encountered. Peer pressure is a powerful force, and Oxenfree takes the responsibility of conversation between friends seriously in a way few, if any, other games do.

The way the conversations work in Oxenfree are with simple mechanic dialogue options, each assigned to a single button press. It feels right at home in the game's gorgeous and scary setting. While the plot unfurls naturally, somewhat inevitably towards shit being increasingly lost as the night passes, there's emotional weight to the game that's a direct product of how it presents its group of friends. There are tensions between them, and glimpses of potential; every friendship in the game is somehow tested across its course, and the player gets to see this without haunted cabin hook-ups getting in the way of, and ultimately derailing, meaningful character development.

Read on Broadly: Love Spells, Ranked

Trico and its human companion, in 'The Last Guardian'

Similarly, this is a theme and focus that I am looking forward to seeing in Fumito Ueda's next game, the long awaited The Last Guardian. The Last Guardian explores the relationship between its boy protagonist and Trico, a griffin-like creature that can assist its human companion in many ways, but must also be cared for. From what we've seen of it so far, The Last Guardian looks like it's going to be all about friendship, and how the best of these relationships can weather any trouble—a theme not unfamiliar to Ueda, the mastermind behind Ico and Shadow of the Colossus. Ueda admits to designing Trico to feel and act like a pet, even up to the petulance that pets can have when learning new tricks. What I'm really excited to see in The Last Guardian is the way the game will (hopefully) build the cooperative element of this relationship, how the two characters develop their individual strengths while also becoming stronger through their shared exploits and intimacy. Much like the exchanges we witness between Loader Bot and Rhys in Tales, the friendships we build with non-human counterparts are sometimes just as important to our growth, understanding, and self-acceptance as those we have with our own species.

These important games don't simply show us that friendship is a fine narrative device to employ, above the clichéd route of connecting male character with female character and dimming the lights, but also that friendships between a diverse selection of characters, between very different friends, can relate the stories games tell to entirely new audiences, and progress the medium for the better. We see friendships between women of color, between people of different socioeconomic backgrounds and life circumstances, as well as friendships between humans and non-humans. All are valid. They're all different, but they're all real. And I for one can't wait to see more examples of gaming leads remaining "just good friends" in the future.

Follow Kaitlin on Twitter.

A ‘Dwarf Toss’ in a Strip Club Still Draws a Big Crowd, Apparently

$
0
0


Leopard's Lounge, pictured above, is a strip club in Windsor, Ontario, that hosts a dwarf toss. All photos by Michael Evans

It's a Saturday night in Windsor, Ontario, and the Leopard's Lounge strip club is packed.

"You guys ready for some tossing?" the announcer asks, as Mötley Crüe blares over the sound system and audience members start to chant, "Dwarf! Dwarf! Dwarf!" while pounding their hands on the tables.

Everyone's here to watch Michael Murga—an entertainer of short stature known as Mighty Mike get tossed in the air as bare-chested strippers serve beer and usher patrons into the club's private booths.

A group of guys take turns grabbing him by the handles of a harness strapped tightly around a T-shirt promoting the club and throwing him onto a series of air mattresses laid out across the stage. It's clumsy, uncoordinated, and hardly reminiscent of the scene in Wolf of Wall Street, where Leo and the gang aim for a bullseye on a Velcro target. He's wearing a helmet and goggles in the name of safety.

In the bathroom, fresh from his toss, one man declares, "He's three feet tall, but fuck, he's dense."

I watch a few turns and begin to wonder if this is really what all of the bitching, moaning, and fanfare is about. Are we here to champion Mike's right to consent, or are we all just sitting in a damp club overpaying for drinks because of its forbidden allure? It's a contentious "sport," one with worldwide protest—after all, it was included in Wolf of Wall Street as a clear indication of how absolutely fucking shitty those greed-mongers were.

And that makes me wonder what this popular event says about my hometown.

After ten tosses, Mike takes a break and heads into the club's back room to rest his back. He's no stranger to the entertainment industry, having toured with Britney Spears, acted on American Horror Story, and performed as Mini-Elvis and Mini-Eminem. His website calls him "Entertainment's #1 Little Person for World Tours." He's avid about staying in shape in order to protect his body from being injured by each toss.

"I work out. I have a strong will. It's not just something where it's pick up a midget and toss him. I have a strong torso. If you land wrong, your back gives out, so you've got to have a strong physique," Mike tells me.

In an average night in this line of work, Mike will be tossed between 50 to 60 times, occasionally at a distance of eight to ten feet.

I've been strictly instructed by Renaldo Agostino, the event organizer, that I'm not allowed to ask him about controversy surrounding the "sport."

"When I'm up there, I am in the zone," is the only thing he tells me when I hint toward the issue.

I ask why he thinks there's such a draw for this event, and Mike explains it's the novelty of it. He sees mainly men in their twenties and thirties line up to heave him across the stage—or if he's in LA, into a hotel swimming pool.

Back on stage, two women grab him from either side and fail to toss him, letting him drop to the ground as the crowd laughs and cheers and orders more booze.

"Premature a-dwarfulation," the announcer chimes. "The whole secret is in the grip."

Dwarf-tossing has a history of complaint and outrage in Windsor, the activity angering a local MPP enough to try to get a law passed banning the spectacle. Windsor West MPP Sandra Pupatello put forward a private member's bill in 2003, but it failed to pass to its second reading.

"My community is up in arms. My phones have been besieged. The community is outraged that this event should be allowed to happen," read Pupatello as she introduced her motion in 2003. The bill would have seen a fine of less than $5,000 or imprisonment of less than six months for those convicted of organizing or participating, had it passed.

The event returned in 2012 to further complaints and calls to Windsor city councillors, yet again it proceeded as planned.

VICE reached out to Pupatello for comment but never heard back.

This year, with back-to-back events at Leopard's and a Detroit club, The Toy Chest, an online petition was created on Change.org started by the organization Little People of America.

The petition states, "dwarf tossing is a disgusting spectacle that subjects people with dwarfism to ridicule and physical harm," and it "treats people of short stature as a piece of equipment and encourages the general attitude that people with dwarfism are objects."

It drew in over 3,600 supporters, with comments describing the event as "demeaning" and "objectifying," to "a travesty that any decent society should condemn."

In 2012, Game of Thrones actor Peter Dinklage brought attention to dwarf-tossing, when he made a shout-out in his Golden Globe acceptance speech to a man who was injured in an incident believed to be inspired by dwarf-tossing.

Despite the complaints, the outrage, and the fanfare, there was a notable lack of any protest outside of Leopard's during the event.

James Campeau, a machinist in Fort McMurray, has been away from his hometown of Windsor for the past five years. When he read about the event online, he seized the opportunity to fly home to take part.

"It's just fun. I don't think it's demeaning or anything. He's getting paid well, I'm sure. They flew him out here, and they put him up in a hotel. It's not like we're throwing him against a brick wall. They've got mattresses out, and everybody is having a good time."

Speculating on what Mike's being paid, Campeau tells me, "Even if it is $1,000, he's hanging out at a strip club for five hours, making $200 an hour in Windsor... the highest-paid wage in Windsor, you're making $40 an hour. He's making four times that, and he's hanging out at a strip club."

Agostino wouldn't divulge what Mike is getting paid for the night, but assures me when I arrive that, "He loves it. He makes what a pretty good DJ would make. He's getting paid what a decent out-of-town band would bring in."

Two bystanders in the audience, Andrew and Kristen, tell me they wouldn't normally step foot in a strip club but wanted to see for themselves what a dwarf toss would be like. They're here with a small group of friends, standing in a corner of the room with big grins on their faces.

For one of the club's dancers, Shannon, it's the oddest event she's seen in her ten years of working in the industry. This is coming from a girl who once watched a stripper squirt and soak everyone in "pervert's row like a fucking water gun."

"It gets busy on Saturday nights, but not like this. Right now there are some people who don't even have chairs. Usually everybody has a table," Shannon tells me.

"You're not going to get a dance are you?" She asks as she realizes I'm not going to be coughing up the money for a private show.

The toss is crass and tasteless, marked with controversy which mainly serves to shotgun it into the spotlight. The club owners eat it up, profiting from the exposure and free publicity. Without the wires and effects from Hollywood, Mike soars a couple feet from awkward tosses thrown mainly by young drunk men who showed up to have a laugh at his expense.

He'll fly back to LA in the morning and go back to being "Entertainment's #1 Little Person for World Tours."

The rest of us will still be in Windsor, where dwarf-tossing can draw a big crowd on a Saturday night.

Follow Dean Scott on Twitter.

The VICE Guide to the 2016 Election: How Bernie Sanders Stood Up to Hillary Clinton in Iowa

$
0
0

By the end of a long night of caucusing and vote counting, it seemed like the Democratic race in Iowa was a coin toss—literally. With more than 90 percent of precincts reporting, and Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders still locked in a dead heat, reports began circulating around 11 PM here that at least six tied precincts had picked a winner based on the flip of coin. Bizarrely, Clinton had won all six.

As it turns out, the coin flips probably didn't have any affect on the final vote tallies. But it was nevertheless a sign of just how close the Democratic race had become in Iowa. On Tuesday morning, the Associated Press officially declared Clinton the winner, barely edging out Sanders by just less than four state delegate equivalents, according to the state party, in what amounts to the closest result in Iowa Democratic caucus history. (If this result holds, Clinton will have earned 23 of Iowa's delegates to the Democratic National Convention; Sanders will wind up with 21.)

Sanders has indicated he won't contest the results, but suggested Tuesday that his campaign might ask the Iowa Democratic Party to release the raw vote totals, something the state party has never done. (Ostensibly to show that Sanders could have won the popular vote, even if he's behind in delegates.) The Clinton campaign, meanwhile, claimed victory early Tuesday morning, arguing in a statement that "statistically, there is no outstanding information that could change the results and no way that Senator Sanders can overcome Secretary Clinton's advantage."

Still, it's hard to see Monday's results as anything other than a victory for Sanders, one that was pretty unimaginable when the self-described Democratic socialist announced his campaign in a Washington press conference last spring. As recently as December, Sanders was trailing Clinton by double digits in most Iowa polls. Even as his numbers rose in the weeks leading up to the caucus, conventional wisdom held that any enthusiasm his campaign was generating among the young and liberal wouldn't be enough to beat Clinton's superior field organization.

Sanders has made a habit of defying conventional wisdom, and reveling in it. In front of a crowd of delirious supporters Monday night, he seemed determined not to let his opponent, or the media, spin away his campaign's accomplishment. "Nine months ago, we came to this beautiful state. We had no political organization; we had no money; no name recognition. And we were taking on the most powerful political organization in the United States of America," Sanders began, barking over the noise of the ballroom at the airport Holiday Inn. "And tonight while the results are still not known, it looks like we are in a virtual tie." The crowd erupted, and kept going for almost a full minute before Sanders had to wave the group down.

The room was feverish, pulsating with the Bern. More than an hour before Sanders took the stage, the party was already packed, the risers bouncing in unison to a Motown medley. Dudes with man-buns clustered in groups of twos and threes near the stage, hopping around invisible hackey-sacks and spontaneously breaking into high fives. A troupe of what I assume were children—or potentially very tiny adults—in matching fluorescent orange fleeces milled around in a pack, occasionally jumping up and down together at random intervals.

"He's fighting—fighting for us," said Mark Harrick, a 23-year-old volunteer who'd flown in from Panama to campaign for Sanders. Joining hands with another volunteer to dance around me in a ring as I asked questions, Harrick explained: "We're a big arrow. Bernie is just the point of the arrow. A huge fat arrow."

Just outside, volunteers milled around, drinking beers and discussing where the revolution would go from here. "I've been talking about Bernie since June, when no one knew who he was," said Nathan Emerson, a 29-year-old volunteer from Des Moines, told me. "'We were going into basements, meeting with two or three people, trying to get them to support an independent running on the Democratic ticket." Now, he added, sipping from a bottle of rum, "the media is finally going to be forced to pay attention."

Across town, at her own caucus night party, Clinton was, somewhat mystifyingly, upbeat about her campaign's performance. Saying that she was "breathing a big sigh of relief," at the results, Clinton added that she looked forward to having a "real contest of ideas" with Sanders.

The Clinton camp enthusiastically echoed these ideas throughout the night, claiming that the campaign had always assumed the Iowa caucus would be a close race, and suggesting that perhaps Democrats were playing into the GOP's strategy by supporting Sanders, a candidate who, unlike Clinton, has never been seriously attacked or vetted by the opposition.

"The polls right now are based on the GOP fully attacking Hillary non-stop for years, and they haven't attacked Bernie at all—they've spent zero dollars attacking him. They don't mention him on Fox, they don't mention him in the debates, they don't mention him in any of the conservative news media," said Wesley Earley, a Los Angeles real estate agent and Clinton supporter."That's the scare with the DNC."

"Unfortunately," he added, "you can't tell any of that to a Bernie supporter."

The broader tendency among Clinton supporters, though, was simply to dismiss Sanders's success, chalking his Iowa numbers up to youthful exuberance that they assume will fade as Democrats start looking for a serious presidential contender.

"Bill Bradley had this ," said Minnesota Democratic Party leader Corey Day, who attended Clinton's Monday night party as a special guest. "Ralph Nader had it. Howard Dean had it. Do you know what they all had in common? None of them won the nomination. So I'm not losing sleep over it per se—we've seen this before. The reality is that Hillary is the best candidate for the job. She's the most qualified candidate for the job, and she's shown it time and time again."

This is the argument Clinton supporters have been making ever since she entered the race: The former first lady, New York senator, and secretary of state has the strongest résumé in the Democratic field, and a history of shrugging off attacks made by the right-wing media. But even after she put enormous resources into Iowa, she couldn't manage a convincing win over Sanders, who represents the kind of grassroots progressivism that she herself has never been inclined, or able, to inspire.

In that sense, Monday's vote was a referendum on the way that politics is conducted in this country, by Clinton and other politicians like her.

"I have a lot of respect for Hillary, but for me, Bernie Sanders is walking the walk," said Erika McCroskey, a 37-year-old Sanders supporter who attended Monday night's victory party. "Clinton takes it everywhere she can get it, between Super PACs and speaking fees."

"For me, Bernie represents democracy, how it's supposed to be," she added. "I believe him."

Grace Wyler is on Twitter. Photographer Ryan Donnell is on Twitter, too, and also on Instagram.

Australian Politics Has a Sexual Harassment Problem

$
0
0

Former NSW Labor General Secretary Jamie Clements was accused of sexual misconduct by Stefanie Jones. Image via

This article originally appeared on VICE Australia.

Australian politics is full of smart, ambitious women. Female staffers and advisors work hard behind the scenes, but the people in charge—the MPs, the ministers, and the party bosses—are still overwhelmingly men. This power imbalance creates a toxic culture wherein women feel they can't speak out about sexual harassment for fear of jeopardizing their careers. I know this because I worked in politics.

During my time as a staffer for the Greens, I heard stories of serious sexual harassment committed by high profile people across the political spectrum. None of them was ever made public. Once a state MP's chief of staff was accused of harassing and stalking a female employee and even breaking into her home. He eventually left his job but never faced disciplinary action. Speak to almost anyone involved in Australian politics and he or she will tell you the same thing: What's been publicly reported is only the tip of the iceberg.

According to nearly a dozen current and former staffers, party officials, and MPs I spoke to for this story, a powerful protection racket exists designed to shield politicians and power brokers in all the major political parties from claims of sexual harassment. It's just standard procedure when a woman speaks up about inappropriate behavior.

One former staffer, who had complained about harassment by her boss, explained to me that, "As a staffer you're expected to put up with anything. You're exempt from workplace protections. You have your job because of loyalty but it's often loyalty that goes one way."

In politics, victims of harassment are regularly hushed by senior figures in their parties, who are the people they work for and look up to. Even if there's no direct order to not talk, most staffers and MPs told me they always have the impression they couldn't go public without risking getting fired. "It's all about loyalty," one said. "If you make a complaint you're disloyal, and you will be accused of making it up."

The fear of backlash is widespread. Almost all of the women I spoke to didn't want to speak on the record, because of the way they've seen other women treated by politicians and the media.

When staffer Stefanie Jones first accused former NSW Labor General Secretary Jamie Clements of harassment, she had no idea it would spark an internal brawl that would go all the way to the top of the ALP. Jones alleged that Clements entered her workplace after hours, prevented her from leaving, and demanded she kiss him. (Clements has never been charged and denies the allegations.) Only one Labor MP, Lynda Voltz, spoke up to publicly defend Jones and to demand Clements stand aside for an independent investigation.

Voltz told me that too many Labor politicians relied on Jamie Clements and the power he wielded for their jobs, and that's why they were unwilling to speak out. "MPs won't speak up in order to protect themselves. Certain politicians are only there because of Jamie Clements." Voltz said. "It goes on unabated. Women are vulnerable because when you have a dynamic as you do in politics there's a power imbalance."

Eventually the matter came to a head when Jones gave a tell-all interview to the Daily Telegraph, detailing the way powerful party figures attempted to shut her down and "make it go away." On the day Jones went public, Bill Shorten demanded Clements' resignation. But the allegations against Clements had been publicized in major media outlets for months. There is no way that Shorten, or any other Labor official, didn't know about them before the story broke.

Bill Shorten asked for Clements' resignation only when the story went public. Image via

Although NSW Labor is now considering better ways to deal with future allegations, everyone I spoke to inside the party agreed the damage was already done. Other women have been deterred from making sexual harassment claims against senior Labor officials, one source told me. They were scared off by the way Jones was treated. "What woman would ever come forward after what happened to Stefanie?" another added.

From what I saw in politics it's almost always the men who decide what should happen when a female employee complains about inappropriate behavior. Men who are statistically far less likely to ever face sexual harassment themselves.

While the Clements saga played out, another Jamie stirred controversy, this time on the Liberal side of the aisle. In late 2015, a 26-year-old female DFAT staffer made accusations of inappropriate behavior against Jamie Briggs, whose biggest political achievement to date was breaking that expensive marble table at Abbott's rowdy goodbye party. Following an internal investigation, Briggs was forced to resign but unfortunately the story didn't end there. He responded by texting a photo of the woman to "a few colleagues" after she made a formal complaint. The photos found their way to media along with anonymous comments suggesting the whole thing was a conspiracy designed to denigrate Briggs. Sound familiar?

When news broke that a Liberal minister was embroiled in a harassment scandal, the Labor party was eager to speak out about the issue but remained largely silent about the fact Jamie Clements, its own senior party official, also stood accused. There's no desire in any party to actually act on this issue, only to use it as a political football and score points against opponents.

Of course, sexual harassment isn't limited to politicians but, speaking from personal experience, politics is a unique workplace. There's constant intense media scrutiny and a level of loyalty demanded from staffers that you wouldn't experience in many other jobs. This all plays out against the background that the accused MPs are those we trust to make laws, including those that should protect people from sexual harassment. For every story we read about in the news, you can guarantee that there are more that haven't made it out there. Most businesses now have policies in place on dealing with incidents of sexual harassment. In politics, the only rule is protecting your own.

Follow Osman on Twitter.

Introducing the VICE 2016 Mass Shooting Tracker

$
0
0

The ubiquity of mass shootings has led many Americans to accept them as unfortunate facts of modern life. By one popular measure, the United States endured 372 mass shootings last year. The number of fatalities resulting from these incidents was 475, with at least 1,870 more people wounded. That toll exceeds the total number of gun homicides in the course of a year in Belgium, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Spain, and Switzerland combined as tallied by the Washington Post in 2012 using the most recent data available.

In hopes of encouraging America to grapple with—and challenge—the brutality of all this violence, VICE is launching a new project aimed at tracking every mass shooting in the United States in 2016. By way of comparison, we will be keeping tabs on mass shootings in Europe, too, and the tally will be frequently updated with brief descriptions of individual shooting incidents. We will also publish weekly round-ups, as well as comparisons to other tragedies and common fears to offer a sense of the scale of this problem. In addition, VICE will be tracking the number in a physical space, with the details to be announced in the coming days.

Our tally will follow the example of the Gun Violence Archive, labeling any shooting in which four or more people are killed or injured, excluding the perpetrator(s), a mass shooting. Because "mass shooting" is a fairly young term, this definition is far from universal. The FBI, for example, only counts something as a "mass killing" if it involves three or more deaths (the threshold was four until 2013), excluding perpetrators killed by law enforcement officials or committing suicide. We've decided to rely on the Gun Violence Archive's definition because we believe people who are shot should be counted among the victims of mass gun violence even if they don't lose their lives.

The scale this metric captures is even more frightening when you consider that it represents a conservative tally. For lack of comprehensive nationwide research on gun deaths, Americans often have to cull information from local news sources that may not always be perfectly reported. And even when an event is thoroughly documented, we know that wounded victims sometimes flee the scene and avoid hospitals, obscuring true mass shooting injury counts. Some incidents are never reported at all.

With those caveats in mind, one month into 2016, America has suffered 12 mass shootings, leaving 23 dead and 34 injured.

That means more Americans have died in large-scale shootings this year than died in combat in the Afghanistan conflict in all of 2015. (That number stands at 22 according to the news and press release compiler iCasualties.)

By comparison, Europe—which collectively houses more than double America's population—has suffered only two mass shootings (one each in France and Russia), with four killed and seven injured. Just a few weeks into the New Year, the imbalance is already wide and stark. The challenge, especially as warmer weather threatens to give way to more gun violence, is to use the real-time number of mass shootings in the United States to shine a sustained spotlight on this plague—and pressure the powers that be to take aggressive steps to rein it in.

Visit the VICE Mass Shooting Tracker 2016 now.

The VICE Guide to the 2016 Election: What We Learned from Ted Cruz's Iowa Victory Over Donald Trump

$
0
0

Inside the Marco Rubio Iowa campaign headquarters near Des Moines before the caucuses. All photos by Mike Pearl

The Iowa Caucuses were that rare thing in this already overlong 2016 presidential race: an actual event, not a piece of "narrative" ready to be spun and re-spun by the media and candidates. After Monday night's results, we know a bit more about the campaign and the shape it's taking. Donald Trump's support, until now, has been purely the speculative stuff of polls—his second-place finish, just a point ahead of Marco Rubio (24 to 23 percent), made him look suddenly vulnerable, those much-touted numbers a mirage.

Ted Cruz, meanwhile, is sitting pretty, for the moment holding both a lead in delegates and bragging rights after his unambiguous victory, with 28 percent of the vote. More than ever, Cruz seems like a plausible presidential candidate, despite a reputation as a strident, unpopular lone wolf. Cruz makes himself out to be an outsider, which isn't unusual—everyone in the GOP ostensibly hates beltway elites who are theoretically the source of all the country's problems. But Cruz really is outside the usual order of things; he's hated even by other Republicans, which in theory makes his path to the presidency more difficult.

Cruz won Iowa the old-fashioned way: an aggressive and efficient get-out-the-vote effort, strong support among the state's evangelicals, and grassroots bona fides. It's telling that when Trump launched attacks against Cruz back in December, conservative talk radio hosts jumped to the senator's defense.

Ted Cruz's bus in the parking lot outside his Iowa campaign office.

That abrasive iconoclasts would dominate Iowa wasn't exactly news, which is why the biggest story of the night was probably Rubio's 23 percent—just one point behind Trump, and eight points higher than his results in the most recent Des Moines Register/Bloomberg poll. For a long time the Rubio campaign has been pushing the idea that a "strong" third-place finish would be a good result for the candidate, but this was a stronger third than anyone was expecting—he didn't beat Cruz or Trump, but he destroyed all the other mainstream conservative candidates, including his former mentor Jeb! Bush, who earned a paltry 2.8 percent of the vote despite his massive campaign war chest. Rubio pulled off that trick everyone learns at his or her first job: He under-promised and over-delivered.

"This is the moment they said would never happen," Rubio said in a prepared speech at his post-caucus event at the Downtown Des Moines Marriott. "For months they told us we had no chance. Because we offered too much optimism in a time of anger, we had no chance." He was giving himself a whole lot of credit for coming in third, but it was time to cash in a few months worth of humility for a night's worth of bluster.

Two 17-year-old Rubio volunteers at Rubio's post-caucus event

The mood in the Rubio camp had unmistakably shifted by Monday night. Earlier that day, I'd been in Rubio's campaign headquarters and seen Rubio's battalion of campaign volunteers in the middle of their final push. They were embodying Rubio's trademark positivity, always chipper, smiles plastered on—but not a muscle in their bodies seemed relaxed.

Just a few hours later, his staff looked flush with victory, despite the third-place finish. People who had tried not to make eye contact with me while hunched over desks earlier in the day making phone calls now recognized me, and high-fived me on the way out of the Marriott.

Randy and his wife

A 34-year-old supporter named Randy from Des Moines was just as relieved as Rubio's staff. "I was speaking to my wife before I came down tonight and I said if Marco could finish in the 20s, I think that's a successful Iowa. Ted and Donald have both spent more time here."

"I think it gives him a lot of momentum moving into New Hampshire," Randy added.

He'll need it. Trump has a commanding lead in New Hampshire polls, though obviously none of them reflect how voters' opinions may have shifted after seeing the Iowa results. At last count, Ted Cruz, John Kasich, Jeb! Bush, and Marco Rubio were all hovering around 10 percent. The message Rubio's camp will hope to spread in the coming week is that his caucus showing indicates he's got more juice than Kasich or Jeb! and their supporters should hop aboard the bandwagon in order to defeat Cruz and Trump—both of whom are feared and loathed by the GOP establishment.

Rubio's political allies didn't waste any time trumpeting this talking point after his third-place "victory." Colorado Senator Cory Gardner, for instance, said, "Tonight's a clear message: If you're another candidate and you want to win in November, you should get behind Marco Rubio."

Rubio may have gotten a boost from a perhaps underappreciated segment of Iowa voters: Republicans who hate Trump so much they don't care who's at the top of the ticket as long as it's not the bully billionaire.

"Cruz and Rubio are pretty much the same person, and I'm pretty happy," said Dustin Hetter, a Rubio supporter who attended Rubio's post-caucus rally.

"At least he's not Trump," said Dustin's wife Amanda.

Follow Mike Pearl on Twitter.


The Men Who Use Antidepressants to Last Longer in Bed

$
0
0

Photo via Wikimedia Commons

Bill Monaghan was familiar with Zoloft before he started experimenting with it off-label. He'd been prescribed the drug in elementary school to treat a "bad case of OCD," but weaned himself off the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) through exercise.

More than a decade later, the South Jersey resident was looking to get back on an SSRI for a different reason: He was finishing too quickly during sex.

"It literally drove me insane," said Monaghan, now 25. "Basically, I was thinking about my penis all fucking day."

SSRIs, a class of antidepressants, treat depression or anxiety disorders by limiting serotonin reabsorption, ultimately increasing the amount of serotonin available for the body's use. They also come with a slew of side effects—one of which is decreased libido and difficulty achieving orgasm. For most, it's an annoyance, but for men like Monaghan, it was an opportunity.

Monaghan went to a urologist, and then a slew of psychiatrists who put him on "a lot of shit" that he says he "didn't need to be on," but not Zoloft. Finally, he found a psychiatrist who appreciated his straightforwardness.

"I actually had papers printed out," Monaghan said. "I was like, 'Here's the medical abstracts of off-label uses of medication that I read up on and I want to experiment with it on myself. Look, I have OCD so the insurance will cover it and blah, blah, blah. We can kill two birds with one stone but this is what I want to do.' I was like, 'I'm not going to try to get you to prescribe me something and lie to you.' I was completely honest and up front."

The doctor put him on Paxil, the trade name for an SSRI called paroxetine and, over the course of the following months, Monaghan went from lasting 30 seconds to more than ten minutes.

Patrick Jern, a psychologist and professor at Abo Akademi University in Finland, said SRRIs effects on ejaculation seemed like a breakthrough for sexual medicine. "It was prescribed off-label for a lot of years to treat premature ejactulation," he said, "and it's actually rather successful."

But while few doctors disagree about the fact that SSRIs delay ejaculation and curb sex drive, some are wary about their role in sexual medicine. Most SSRIs have a bunch of negative short-term side effects (weight gain, fatigue, nausea) and unknown long-term side effects. Still, there are dozens of threads on forums like Reddit filled with men lauding the impacts of SSRIs on their sex life.

"Honestly I feel like a monster now for the length of time I can last," wrote one user, who was prescribed an SSRI called Cipralex solely for premature ejaculation. "I can give this girl some monster orgasms and it feels amazing knowing that I can truly satisfy this girl."

The drug impacts his mood, he said, but he deemed the tradeoff for his boosted confidence worth it.

"I've had a lot of people close to me come up to me and mention that I look depressed and not myself," he said. "This is the only reason I'm contemplating pulling back on them a little bit but it's just difficult because I'm so happy how I'm able to perform in bed now. Obviously the right decision would be to get off of them entirely but it just seems like my performance is too good to be true to stop them now."

Jern, the psychologist from Finland, performed a study on men who'd taken dapoxetine to treat premature ejaculation. He found that 70 percent ultimately stopped using the drug, typically citing the side effects, with half of those who discontinued use reporting nausea and nearly a quarter reporting diarrhea.

Dapoxetine is notable because it's the only SSRI with a marketing permit in many countries for treatment of premature ejaculation. Like Viagra (which was also popularized through its side effect—it was originally developed to treat hypertension), dapoxetine can be taken on-demand, about an hour before sex, and clear the system shortly thereafter.

The drug has not, however, been approved by the FDA for this usage in the United States (because its application is still pending, the FDA could not provide further information). Despite the lack of approval, other drugs containing the same chemical compound as dapoxetine have surfaced in the United States. In October 2015, the FDA recalled the drugs Rhino 7 3000 and Rhino 7 Platinum 3000, both over-the-counter sexual endurance supplements which were found to contain dapoxetine.

"Studies have shown that antidepressants increased the risk of suicidal thinking and behavior in children, adolescents, and young adults when compared to placebo," the FDA wrote in a release announcing the recall. "Therefore, consuming these products presents a health risk which could be life threatening."

Pharmaceutical companies can't market their drugs for anything other than their intended use, but doctors can prescribe off-label use at their discretion. Dr. T. Mike Hsieh, a urologist and professor at the University of California San Diego, says he sometimes prescribes SSRIs for patients with premature ejaculations, but only in the most dire cases and after a thorough screening.

"If a couple who's trying to conceive but the guy can't last—during foreplay the guy ejaculates—how is he supposed to try to conceive with his wife?" Hsieh said. "So there are definitely specific instances, in addition to maintaining a healthy sex life. I do use SSRIs and I do use all the topical numbing applications to try to help these guys out, but what I do is try to screen them for any kind of underlying depression or bipolar disorder and then, if there's any concern, I would have them see a psychiatrist first to make sure they're clear."

Hsieh is concerned about the SSRI use, however, because a vast majority of his patients—many of them college students—are struggling with perception rather than an actual physical issue.

"When a college kid comes in and says they can last 20 minutes, you're like, listen, because the medication really only helps a guy get from about half a minute to two and half minutes," Hsieh said. The average length of sexual penetration is hard to nail down, but studies show ranges from three minutes to about seven.

Hsieh believes this uptick in young men who think they're suffering from premature ejaculation is the result of an increase in the availability of porn.

"They don't understand that a lot of those guys, porn actors, they're getting injections and various things to keep their erection up for the film," Hsieh said. "But naturally when a 15-year-old or a 20-year-old college kid starts watching these movies they start comparing their own performance to what they see on the film. Obviously, they all feel they are very inadequate. So even though, I think, it's been reported that as high as two-thirds of men have premature ejaculation, but if you really put a strict definition on it, then it's probably a smaller amount of people."

Even the SSRI use itself, Hsieh said, might not be helping a sexual problem that's strictly physical.

"SSRI has been used to treat anxiety so maybe part of the effect is that it also calms the guys down a little bit," he said. "Some guys don't really have erection problems, but if you give them a little bit of viagra they feel like, 'Oh, now I'm ready to go.' So there's that weird placebo effect or anti-anxiety effect and I think that probably contributes to it."

Even Monaghan, who's a vocal supporter of SSRIs when used correctly and whose SSRI of choice, paroxetine, has lower discontinuation rates according to Jern's study, warns against misuse.

"Don't just go get these pills," he said. "They're powerful mental drugs and if you don't have a problem and you take them you can actually create a problem."

Follow Dave Simpson on Twitter.

Three Teens Have Been Arrested After a Mass Shooting in a Seattle Homeless Camp

$
0
0

VICE is tracking mass shootings in America in 2016, and comparing the numbers with their European counterparts. Read our rationale for the project and the metrics we're using here.

The Jungle is a muddy village perched under an interstate south of downtown Seattle, a bleak testament to the northwestern city's struggle to provide assistance to its surging homeless population.

Last week, it was also the site of a mass shooting that left two people dead, three wounded, and ultimately led to the arrest of a trio of local teenagers.

"There are no outstanding suspects that we're aware of," Seattle Police Chief Kathleen O'Toole said after the arrests Monday.

According to the King County Medical Examiner, 33-year-old James Tran and 45-year-old Jennine Brooks (or Zapata) were killed when an armed group—one witness told a local NBC affiliate at least six people showed up on bikes wearing black—opened fire around 7:15 PM on January 26. Police believe the shooting stemmed from a drug beef, as the Associated Press reported.

Cops are not releasing names of the three arrestees—boys who are 13, 16, and 17—nor have they indicated whether the trio lived in The Jungle. Police reportedly recovered a gun at the time of the arrest, which took place at another local homeless encampment. The shooting came at a tricky moment for Seattle Mayor Ed Murray, who, as the Washington Post reported, was in the midst of an aggressive public campaign to combat homelessness when a horrific episode of gun violence got in the way.

The Jungle's official name is the East Duwamish Greenbelt, but it's gone by the nickname—derived from "hobo jungles"—for decades, possibly since the Depression era in 1930s. "You've got that constant traffic drone sound," Tim Harris, founding director of Real Change Homeless Empowerment Project, told a local NPR affiliate. "When you're underneath the freeway, you see the freeway maybe 50 feet overhead. There are these big pillars. There's lot of shrubs and vegetation."

Seattle and King County as a whole have seen an influx of money pumped into the local economy by the tech sector, including billion-dollar behemoths Microsoft and Amazon. And thanks to raucous anti-WTO protests in 1999 and the more recent election of an avowed Socialist to its city council, the city enjoys a reputation as a place where left-wing politics reign. But despite passing a $15 minimum wage in 2014—which is still being phased in—officials haven't been able to get a handle on systemic poverty. The local homeless population has risen 19 percent since last year, according to one recent tally.

During a summer marked by what cops said was an uptick in gang shootings, city lawmakers went so far as to pass a "gun violence tax," which was upheld in the face of legal challenge from gun rights groups in December. Murray declared a state of emergency in the fall after the medical examiner reported dozens of homeless people died between January and September. That brought millions in additional cash to help the needy, but last week's shooting had the mayor second-guessing himself.

"Maybe I should have issued the state of emergency months earlier," Murray told reporters. "We've tried to do the best that we can given the circumstances we have, but obviously I'm going to question, was I good enough at my own job. It's on me in the end."

Follow Matt Taylor on Twitter.

Congress Just Voted to Put a 'Scarlet Letter' on the Passports of Sex Offenders

$
0
0

This story was co-published with the Marshall Project.

Legislation requiring the State Department to identify registered sex offenders with a special mark on their passports received final passage in the House of Representatives on Monday night and went to President Obama's desk. The White House has not indicated whether President Obama plans to sign the bill.

Called "International Megan's Law" by its sponsors, the bill provides that offenders' passports contain a "unique identifier"—as yet unspecified. Critics call it a scarlet letter. "Who is going to have a unique identifier added to their passport next? Is it going to be Muslims? Is it going to be gays?" asks Janice Bellucci, a civil rights attorney who has fought against sex offender registries.

Supporters say the bill will help prevent sex trafficking, since sex offenders "hop on planes and go to places for a week or two and abuse little children," the bill's sponsor, Rep. Chris Smith (R-NJ)., told NJ.com. Multiple requests for comment made to Smith's office were not returned.

In drafting the bill, Smith and others drew upon a 2010 GAO report that found that about 4,500 of the more than 16 million US passports issued each year go to registered sex offenders. The report included a selected list of registered sex offenders who received passports in 2008, with detailed descriptions of their crimes.

In a rebuttal printed as an appendix in the report, the State Department noted that there was no evidence anyone on that list had traveled in order to commit a sex crime, and that it already has the authority to deny passports to people convicted of sex tourism involving minors and those whose probation or parole terms forbid them from traveling.

"We think the report is very misleading," the State Department wrote. "Starting with the title, 'Passports Issued to Thousands of Registered Sex Offenders,' we are concerned that it conveys more 'shock value' than factual accuracy."

Multiple studies have shown that sex offender registries do not prevent sex crimes and in fact can increase crime, by driving people on the registry away from legal employment, housing, and positive social networks.

In addition to the new passport marking, the law would codify an existing Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) program called "Operation Angel Watch," which notifies officials abroad when registered sex offenders plan to travel to those countries.

Critics of the program say there are myriad reasons US citizens might travel abroad that have nothing to do with past crimes: for work, to visit family, and for vacation. The "Angel Watch" notifications would still apply even in cases where crimes were committed decades prior, and when the crimes that landed people on the registry had nothing to do with sex trafficking or international travel.

Paul Rigney heads up a group in Dallas called Registrant Travel Action Group in which he is collecting stories of people whose status on the registry has interfered with international travel. One man wrote that he has a daughter in medical school abroad; he fears he won't be able to travel to her graduation. One woman wrote that she and her husband wanted to take their three kids on a Carnival cruise, but "I received a letter denying me access to ever travel with them again due to my registration status. I was appalled and humiliated."

Bob, who asked the Marshall Project to withhold his last name, arrived at an airport in the Philippines to visit his wife, who lives there, only to be turned away. Several years prior he had pleaded guilty to a single count of Violation of Privacy—a "peeping Tom" charge that arose from a dispute with his ex-wife. He had traveled to the Philippines many times before, he says, but suddenly in 2012, unbeknownst to him, a "traveling sex offender alert" had been sent to the Philippine government. Because his immigration petition to bring his wife to the US is still pending, these trips are the couple's only way to see each other.

This article was originally published by the Marshall Project, a nonprofit news organization that covers the US criminal justice system. Sign up for their newsletter, or follow the Marshall Project on Facebook or Twitter

Comics: A Man in a Trenchcoat Shows Lulu Something Neat in Today's Comic from Ida Eva Neverdahl

Watch the Trailer for Our New Season of 'F*CK, THAT'S DELICIOUS'

$
0
0

On February 29, VICE will launch our new TV channel, VICELAND—a 24-hour cable channel featuring hundreds of hours of new programming. It's been a lot of work, but we've had help from some insanely talented people and we can't wait to share our first lineup of shows with you.

We've already released a trailer for our new show, GAYCATION, and one for our latest season of the classic series BALLS DEEP, but some other great VICE shows are making the leap to TV too, like Action Bronson's series F*CK, THAT'S DELICIOUS.

F*CK, THAT'S DELICIOUS chronicles the life and eating habits of rap's greatest bon vivant and follows Bronson as he tours the world with his long-time friends and collaborators, Meyhem Lauren and Big Body Bes.

Give the trailer a watch above, and be sure to check out the full series when the channel launches next month. The premiere episode airs March 3 at 10 PM.

How Do You Explain Earthquakes to Refugees Without Freaking Them Out?

$
0
0

An earthquake survival kit. Photo via Flickr user Global X

Off the Pacific coast, along the 700-mile long Cascadia faultline running from Northern California to Vancouver Island, tectonic plates are shifting. When they eventually collide, it will cause the continent's largest "megaquake."

It could happen tomorrow. It could happen 50 years from now. The word "if" doesn't get used much anymore when discussing the Cascadia Subduction Zone earthquake, or the tsunami it will unleash into coastal towns, or how it will destroy bridges, roads, infrastructure, and houses.

Naturally, news of this event—especially as it was detailed in a July 2015 New Yorker article called "The Really Big One"—sent Pacific Northwesterners stocking up on water and supplies. But for refugees who are resettling in cities in Oregon, the mythology surrounding the "megaquake" has sent them into a tailspin.

Thousands of refugees have made Oregon their home in the past few years (there were 1,327 refugee arrivals in 2015 alone), and most initially settle in Portland, the state's largest city. Most of those people come to the Immigrant and Refugee Community Organization (IRCO), a resource center to help immigrants and refugees acclimate to Portland. Starting last year, shortly after the New Yorker article came out, IRCO case managers caught whiff of rumors about the earthquake—specifically, rumors that it would happen the next day.

The organization is well-versed in conveying crucial information to non-native, non-English-speaking communities: IRCO offers over 100 social service programs, which help immigrants find housing, take language classes, and secure jobs. But this was different.

"We started hearing a real sense of an impending doom," says Megan Harrington Wilson, the Community Works Program Manager at the IRCO.

In talking to clients, the IRCO staff learned that many of the refugees were taking extreme actions to prepare for the quake: Parents kept their children home from school, afraid to be separated in the aftermath. Others cashed their paychecks and crammed loads of bottled water into their already-cramped apartments. People bought life jackets, a tsunami precaution. A Burmese woman said she'd heard all flights were grounded in Portland, and that everyone was trapped. Rumors flew across social media. According to IRCO, several people even quit their jobs, packed up their families, and moved out of Portland altogether.

IRCO invited Felicia Heaton, a senior community outreach representative from the city's Bureau of Emergency Management, to provide information and arranged for interpreters to translate her messages into several languages. About 140 people showed up to the meeting, where Heaton gave basic earthquake safety information: If the ground shakes, get under a table; stock up on food and water in advance; create an emergency plan. Simple stuff.

But the meeting only made things worse. "The communities heard panic," Wilson said. "It backfired. Massively."

For refugees from areas that have been affected by bad earthquakes, news of an earthquake hit too close to home.

"," said Surya Joshi, a community engagement specialist at IRCO. "They heard the stories about how it happened and how everything got destroyed."

Worse, many of the refugees in attendance feared they wouldn't be able to prepare the way they were instructed at IRCO's meeting. Joshi said his clients tend to live "in cramped apartments with little free space. They were told to store at least three gallons of water per person. In our community, there are seven people living in an apartment—that's 21 gallons of water. That made people panic more and more."

News needs to be filtered through a 'trauma-informed perspective'—an outlook that acknowledges many refugees have been fleeing catastrophe for most of their lives.

While IRCO and the city regrouped, some communities started to take the information into their own hands. Ahmed Al-Zubidi, a case manager in the housing program at IRCO and an Iraqi refugee, noticed several people spreading misinformation on social media. In his family's small suburban apartment, he held meetings for members of the community.

"The main concern was the tsunami. Our community, they don't know the geography of the area," he said. With people gathered on his floor and on couches, he showed them maps of Oregon on Google, pointing out the distance and large mountain range that separates Portland from the ocean—too far to be swept up by a tsunami.

IRCO called a second meeting, this time targeting the Bhutanese and Burmese communities, which seemed to be the most concerned about the quake. Nearly 100 people showed up. Wilson gave a stripped-down Powerpoint presentation, with simple slides. On one slide, a large wave appeared, with the text: "Will there be a tsunami in Portland?" On the next slide, a red cross appears through the wave. "No!"

Joshi provided translation for the Nepali-speakers at the meeting, and when that slide flashed across the screen, the room erupted in cheers.

"When I ruled out the tsunami from the place our community lived, they were so joyful," he says. "Everybody gave a standing ovation, they were clapping and hugging each other. It was quite an event."

After that second meeting, Wilson says the staff realized the fundamental mistake: "I think what we've seen is that when you present information—even simplified information—coming from a Western perspective, it actually just triggers people's fear and trauma." She likens it to a traffic cone on a cracked sidewalk: A native Oregonian might recognize it as a simple caution, whereas a newly arrived refugee might interpret that as a sign of danger.

News like that of the earthquake, she says, needs to be filtered through a "trauma-informed perspective"—an outlook that acknowledges many refugees have been fleeing catastrophe for most of their lives. Wilson recalls a meeting in which a Somali woman explained her fear: "We understand war. We understand genocide. We understand rape and pillage. We flee from that." An earthquake felt like a unexpected continuation of that long flight away from danger.

Heaton, Wilson, and others from IRCO have now constructed plans to assemble phone trees: simple call lists that start with prominent figures within refugee communities—spiritual leaders, in most cases—which then allow the dispersal of crucial information through trusted sources.

"For a lot of people, that sounds really, really basic," Heaton said, "but when it comes to appropriately serving these communities, that's what we have to do. They're not tapped into traditional media. Going back to basics is really the best way to do it."

After a 7.1 earthquake shook Anchorage, Alaska last month, there were more murmurs about potential disaster among the refugee community. Al-Zubidi was able to placate refugees in Portland, but back in Iraq, he says people still think living in Oregon is dangerous.

"People back home, they say we will die ," he said. "I told them, 'Guys, you have faith. If our God says we should die, we should die. No one can say no. You know? Maybe a car hits you. Maybe you fall down from a ceiling or something. Maybe you will have a heart attack. After that, they have some peace."

Follow Leah Sottile on Twitter.

Narcomania: Why Are So Many Black People Being Convicted of Drug Dealing in London?

$
0
0

Undercover cop Neil Woods (left) buying crack. Photo from "Inside the Secret World of a British Undercover Drugs Cop"

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Nearly half of all people convicted for class A drug supply in London are black, according to previously unpublished data seen by VICE.

Figures released to VICE under the Freedom of Information Act reveal that 42 percent of people convicted for selling class A drugs in the capital are black, a proportion that rises to 50 percent for drug dealers under age 21.

According to the 2011 census, just over 10 percent of people living in London are black, while just under 60 percent are white. However, three times as many black people under 21 are convicted of class A drug supply than white people under 21. Around three-quarters of class A drug supply convictions result in custody.

These new figures come a couple of days after Prime Minister David Cameron announced a review into the treatment of ethnic minorities by the criminal justice system, pointing out that a young black man in the UK is more likely to be in prison than at a top university.

The data released to VICE shows that black people are over-represented nationally when it comes to drug supply convictions. While making up just three percent of the UK population, black people account for 20 percent of all class A drug supply convictions.

The data, which covers convictions for 2013 and 2014, also reflects the expansion by London drug gangs into other parts of the country. They show high numbers of black drug dealing convictions in the southeast and east of England, as gangs send young sellers to "go country" and take advantage of commuter belt markets.

It's not just at the lower levels of the drug trade that black people are over-represented. Of the 567 people convicted for class A drug importation over 2013 and 2014, 120 were black, compared to 132 white and 55 Asian. Almost all of those convicted were arrested in London and the southeast of England.

The region-by-region data obtained through the FOIA request provides an exclusive insight into the age and ethnicity of people making a living in the drug trade in England and Wales. The further you travel north, away from London, Bristol, and Birmingham, the number of black drug dealing convictions peters out.

In the north, those found guilty of drug dealing are overwhelmingly white, a reflection of the more extensive network of white crime groups in cities such as Newcastle, Liverpool, and Manchester.

The northwest hosts the highest number of class B (chiefly, cannabis and speed) selling convictions in the country, as well as the most people found guilty of producing class B drugs (almost entirely cannabis grows).

Importation convictions are highest in London, the southeast and the northwest, a reflection of the importance of these areas as hubs of trafficking and onward distribution within the UK.

The data raises important questions about why a disproportionate number of black people are ending up in the dock for dealing drugs. VICE has spoken to a number of experts—including former drug dealers and specialists in the drug trade—to seek an explanation for this phenomenon.

Their responses on the following pages suggest the figures are being driven by a number of factors, such as social exclusion, biased policing, gang culture, and cultural links to the cocaine trade.

It appears that the high representation of black people in the drug supply statistics, particularly at the business end—the heroin and crack market, which has a far higher risk of injury or arrest than any other drugs—is a reflection of three main drivers:

SOCIAL EXCLUSION

Young black men have a higher unemployment rate than all other ethnic groups—more than double the rate for young white men. In 2012, government statistics showed that more than half of young black men available for work in Britain were unemployed. According to the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, black ethnic groups have worse labor market outcomes regardless of whether they live in better-off or deprived neighborhoods.

As John Pitts, director of the Vauxhall Centre for the Study of Crime, told me in 2011: "To someone who is struggling at school, who has a cold, hard home life with few prospects, it's dangerous, it's exciting, and it's a step up the ladder. You have escalating youth unemployment and a lack of those opportunities. In today's drug business you could be earning, with relatively little effort, £500 a week. The old ways of reasoning with young offenders—all that is now gone."

Analysis of the motivations of those who took part in the 2011 riots in London and elsewhere in England revealed a similar narrative: The rioters, most of them young black men, said they were driven by social exclusion and economic deprivation, combined with a strong sense of injustice. They were poorer, younger, and of lower educational achievement than average.

Drug dealing is a logical solution to a problem for many of the world's urban poor. Some of those locked out of the mainstream economy turn to one of the biggest illegal economies: the drug trade.

It's the same story the world over. In towns and cities across every continent, there are hundreds of thousands of people who are using the drug trade as a way to escape a dead end life, and indeed, widespread social inequality. A study into the drug market in New Orleans, published in the Journal of Ethnicity in Substance Abuse in 2010, found "a clear connection between poverty and entrance into the drug market, as mitigated by race, lack of societal opportunity, lack of social capital, distressed families, and closed neighborhoods. Specifically, the research illustrates the mechanisms by which macro-level social forces intersect to legitimize drug dealing as a viable alternative method of acquiring money and social capital."

Some people are coerced into the drug trade. But for most, access is relatively easy and socially acceptable, often through family or friends. Either way, once you get on it's hard to get off. Political campaigner Kenny Imafidon, 22, who grew up on an estate in Peckham and did his A levels in Feltham prison described this in The Kenny Report, a 2012 publication handed into Parliament to raise awareness of the challenges faced by young people from deprived areas:

"Many young black people at the age of 16 are aware of the economic climate and the lack of legitimate career opportunities, so can often be lured into illegal ways of making money such as selling drugs, particularly if they are living in an area where this is an accessible and viable option. Young people in deprived communities who obtain criminal convictions by the age of 16 believe that no one is going to employ them anyway and therefore commit to ongoing criminality."

Societies that combine social inequality and consumerism cannot be surprised that people who have no opportunities want to find another way of buying the things that everyone else seems to have.

BIASED POLICING

There is no doubt the police target black people for stop and search, therefore making them more likely to be caught if they are carrying quantities of drugs deemed high enough to warrant arrest for supply. Despite a clampdown on discriminatory stop and searches ordered by Home Secretary Theresa May, which has dramatically reduced the practice, black people in London are still three times more likely to be frisked than white people, rising to 17 times more likely in some parts of England.

Black people are also three times as likely than white people to be arrested and prosecuted. This is reflected in the prison statistics, with significant rises in the proportion of young black and Asian people being locked up. A report—led by Baroness Young and published last year—into the high numbers of young black men in prison found that one of the reasons behind the rise is that black offenders "are stereotyped as drug dealers."

THE COCAINE ROUTE

The reason so many black people are being convicted for class A drug selling, predominantly for selling heroin and crack, has its origins 20 years ago, with the rise of the crack cocaine market in Britain. The first crack importers and suppliers were British Jamaican gangs who used existing friendships and supply lines from the Caribbean to import cocaine and wash it up into crack.

Because of its short, intense high and need for users to buy repeat hits, crack became a lucrative trade. Dealers began selling it alongside heroin, and the two drugs virtually became one—a first course and a main course—with some users combining "white" and "brown" in the same syringe, known as a speedball.

By its very nature, the crack and heroin trade—particularly when it comes to the young runners who carry out the transactions—is far more visible to the police than the trade in other class A drugs. It's a lot tougher to avoid arrest if you're serving up to heroin users on a notorious estate than passing a few bags around in a noisy, dimly-lit nightclub.

Below is a number of opinions from criminologists, a former crack and heroin dealer, and a couple of former international cocaine traffickers.

NOEL WILLIAMS, 25, SOUTH LONDON
A former heroin and crack dealer

I was selling heroin and crack on my estate in Tooting from the age of 11 to 20. I've been in prison six times, the longest stretch was five years. I got out and I'm now studying a sociology and economics degree at university.

Yes, there is institutional racism in the police, in courts and prisons—and black people selling drugs can be obvious—but for me it's all about social deprivation. If you took away drug dealing you would literally have young black kids starving in the streets. They need the money.

If the police want to find us, we are easily found. We are not in central London; we are living in these little urban pockets, living on top of each other in neglected estates. Drug dealing has spiraled out of all this. All the drug addicts live on the same estate as us, so it's easy to make money selling drugs to them.

I got into dealing because my parents were drug dealers—it was my destiny to sell drugs. My dad wasn't around much. Mothers can teach you manners, but not how to be a man. We just went out on the streets and did anything we wanted because no one was going to say anything. We didn't care if we got caught and went to prison. We just did it again straight away—it was the only thing we knew.

As well as the crack and heroin, I also sold cocaine powder to white party animals. No one from my estate could afford £100 for a night out like they did.

I still live on my estate, but I got out of the drug trade. I did A levels in prison and started university. Being at university, I know now what I did not know then: There is another way. It's a struggle, but there is another way.

Some trafficked cocaine. Photo via US Federal Agency

DARRELL M, EAST LONDON
Former international cocaine trafficker

If you see someone who has managed to afford a car from his earnings in a week, rather than over two years, people are going to go for the job that takes them a week to get the car.

Yes, there is biased policing against black people, but they bring a lot of it upon themselves, with the dress code, the swagger on the streets. Maybe other ethnic groups are just more discreet, while we drive around in flashy cars. If you have all this bravado, you are putting yourself in the spotlight.

With gangs it's all about street cred, it's all about reputation, and this is the downfall for a lot of these young guys. It backfires on them—they advertise what they are doing to the rest of the world, flaunting their wealth. Police are biased, but young black men have only got themselves to blame if they make themselves a moving target.

Black culture is flamboyant, outgoing, loud, and some people can't accept that. If you live in a racist society and the system is against you, then don't make the system worse for yourself. If you get convicted for drug dealing, don't play the race card: You chose the wrong path when you got involved, so don't cry about it when you get caught.

One of the problem is a lack of role models. Lots of the kids selling drugs have come from broken homes, where the father is not there. They need a male role model, and if they don't get that at home, they look elsewhere. But dealers do also come from good families—it's all up to individual choices. Everyone has got his or her own reason why he or she got involved in selling drugs.

SUZELLA PALMER, UNIVERSITY OF BEDFORDSHIRE
Criminologist specializing in ethnicity

Most ethnic groups have found that, since moving to Britain, generations have worked their way up and out of poorer areas, and they end up doing better than their parents. But with Afro-Caribbeans, this tends not to happen. Why? Because we have suffered levels of discrimination unlike other groups. Now, after 9/11, the Muslim community is experiencing something approaching this level of discrimination.

We have always had a fighting spirit against discrimination and social exclusion. In the 1980s, when unemployment among young black males where I lived on the Stonebridge Estate in Harlesden was 95 percent, we hustled, sold weed, cut hair. There was an informal economy.

Then came the crack trade via Jamaica. Some young men were able to make lots of money, silly money, buying Lamborghinis, Porsches, and second homes in Jamaica. This came at the time of Thatcherism, when the messages were all about consumerism, looking after number one, that to be someone meant you had to have money. On some estates now there is a real lack of community, so people are more complacent.

Now, for young black men who underachieve at school and want status and cash, selling crack and heroin is a shortcut. The key is that it's so easy for them to get involved in the drug trade. They know so many people involved—there are so many job opportunities.

Culturally, young black people are included, but economically they are not. Selling crack will give you access to this world. Young Bangladeshi men buy into this less, because they are less absorbed into British culture.

There are clear international links between black youth in the UK and Jamaican organized crime groups who source cocaine. But we can also find similar patterns with Pakistani youth in the UK and organized crime in Afghanistan or Turkish youth in north London and their links with organized crime groups in and from Turkey. Again, while social exclusion and accessibility to drugs are factors that apply to most ethnic groups involved in the drugs trade, the group most demonized and discriminated against are black youth.

While young black men often face more challenges than other excluded groups—raising their likelihood to become involved in drug dealing—discriminatory practices within policing have a far greater effect on the disproportionate numbers of black young males who are arrested and convicted.

PROFESSOR ALEX STEVENS, UNIVERSITY OF KENT
Criminologist specializing in drug policing

The key thing is that the proportions of black people in these figures are generated from the interaction between police decisions on whom to target and the underlying (and much greater) number of people who are involved in drug supply. If police officers have a view that young black men are more likely to be involved, then they will target young black men, and their figures will keep on telling them that young black men are the most likely to be involved in dealing. This is known as "statistical discrimination."

It is impossible to know whether there are actually underlying differences in rates of offending. Given that young black men are more likely to be excluded from school, homeless, and unemployed, it would not be surprising if a larger proportion of them did turn to alternative ways of making cash, and the attractions of this may be reinforced if they see dealing being, as Barack Obama nearly said, 'the final destination' of the young, black man growing up with the experience of routine police attention. However, it is difficult to either prove this point or to make it without being accused of repeating the racially essentialist stereotypes that have been around for as long as drugs have been controlled.

A plane, via which drugs are often trafficked. Photo by David Spinks via

NICK S, BRISTOL
Former international cocaine trafficker

In the mid 1990s, black dealers dominated the crack scene in London and Bristol—they didn't allow anyone else to sell it, and they have maintained control over the market. They don't import cocaine so much now, but those who do import it – such as the Colombians—sell it to the black dealers because they can get a higher price from black dealers because they sell it at high volume as crack.

I've just spent a year in Wandsworth Prison, and there are lots of young black kids coming in for drug dealing. Most of them are in gangs from different areas, which have sprung up everywhere and replaced old crime families. They seem to be very much influenced by hip-hop and American culture. Drug dealing is seen as a cool career, a thing to do, like 50 Cent. I met black kids in there for small amounts of drugs, who said once they are known to police for selling drugs they get targeted like crazy.

RONNIE MANEK, GT STEWART SOLICITORS
Barrister specializing in drug supply cases in south London

Why are so many young black drug dealers going through the courts? I put it down to gang culture. The majority of the gangs in southeast London are black gangs, and they are often involved in selling drugs. A lot of the boys I see come from single parent backgrounds; their father is abroad or in jail. There is a lot of poverty there. Most of them are runners for their bosses, who are black, but the people above them turn out to be proper gangsters, older men, often white, who source drugs from abroad but don't get their hands dirty.

A lot of those going through the courts are teenagers, uneducated, very rebellious against society. They don't go to school, though there is the odd university-educated guy. They do it for huge financial reward—up to £1,000 a week.

One recent case I've just finished defending involved a gang of young black men from a south London estate who used an insider at an estate agent to set up four flats where they stored 70 percent pure cocaine, cut it up, and put it in bags for sale. In one flat the police raided in Kensington the officers found £66,000 . The dealers sold it on the streets of Bedford, Norwich, Ipswich, and Luton, where they rented out hub flats to sell from.

PROFESSOR ROSS COOMBER, GRIFFITH UNIVERSITY
Criminologist specializing in the drug trade

My research has shown that black dealers traveling out of London to sell crack and heroin in less ethnically-mixed areas are highly visible to the police. So a lot of "London" drug dealers are being arrested outside of London. In many of the (predominantly white) home counties and towns and cities commutable from London, I know the police there simply look out for black commuting drug dealers.

It might very well be that many of the low-level black dealers are relatively vulnerable young people and that gangs force or use these young people to sell. Vulnerable and excluded teenagers in London—more likely to be black than white, proportionately—are more likely to become involved in drug supply than those with better life chances.

These statistics are not representative of the entire drug market, but reflect the part of the market most visible to law enforcement, the heroin and crack trade. So non-black dealers are more heavily involved in drug selling, but are far less visible.

Follow VICE's Narcomania series on Twitter.


Inside the Bizarre, Unsolved Case of the Long Island Serial Killer

$
0
0

Something in Joseph Brewer's house made Shannan Gilbert think she was going to die. Maybe it was the fleeting image of some horrific thing she was not used to seeing in the home of a john, though for a 24-year-old sex worker who apparently turned tricks in the darkest corners of the New York metropolitan area, it stretches the imagination to guess what such a thing could even be. Maybe it was a violent suggestion whispered in her ear. Or maybe someone in Brewer's house told Gilbert a story about a hired escort who steps out into the night in Long Island and is never seen alive again.

For the growing number of us who have come to obsess over it, and the community of online sleuths devoted to solving it, the mystery surrounding the perpetrator known only as the Long Island Serial Killer is closer in atmosphere to the chthonic landscape of David Lynch's Lost Highway than a conventional whodunit. It's a tale replete with rumors of orgies, torture, and sadistic, sex-addicted cops. Gilbert's abrupt disappearance from the private coastal community of Oak Beach, New York, on the night of May 1, 2010, released a black cloud of murder and conspiracy that seems to still hover over the sleepy suburb; when her skeletonized remains were eventually found, some 19 months later, in a pool of brackish water, it seemed to confirm what by then was obvious to anyone paying attention: Something was wrong on Long Island.

Suffolk County Police and recruits search an area of beach near where police found human remains on April 5, 2011 in Babylon, New York. (Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images)

The search for Gilbert led to the mass discovery of bodies just off Gilgo Beach, an undeveloped coastal park in Suffolk County, New York, and evolved into an investigation that has now lasted over half a decade, uncovering the corpses of eight young women. It has also produced the body of a trans woman found with teeth missing from her skull, a female toddler wearing hoop earrings, and unconfirmed suspicions about as many as seven other female victims who have never been verified by police as being part of the same killer's spree. All of the adult victims who have been identified were sex workers. The majority of the remains were found on Ocean Parkway, a dim and desolate stretch of road that runs from the far edges of Jones Beach and into maritime oblivion. Two torsos were found 40 miles away in Manorville, tossed into the woods like unwanted hunks of meat.

The Long Island Serial Killer emerged as early as 1996, although no one knew it then. Richard Dormer, the former Suffolk County police commissioner, says a couple found two severed female legs wrapped in plastic that year while taking a stroll through Davis Park, a beach spot on Fire Island. When the bodies were discovered in the bramble along Ocean Parkway in 2010, a cop involved in the 1996 investigation called police to recommend running a DNA test, which matched the legs to a victim of the Long Island Serial Killer.

The most recent possible victim was a 31-year-old woman of Yugoslavian origin named Natasha Jugo with a history of paranoia. In 2013, Jugo drove her Toyota Prius some 40 minutes from Queens out to Ocean Parkway at four in the morning for unknown reasons, and, much like Shannan Gilbert, disappeared into nothing, leaving her wallet and clothing behind. That June, three months after she vanished, a group of beachgoers spotted Jugo's body floating motionless in the sea.

In December, local tabloids announced that the FBI had rejoined the search for the Long Island Serial Killer. Days later, an anonymous source alleged in the press that tarnished former Suffolk County Police Chief James Burke made deliberate efforts to block the FBI from participating in the investigation, fueling longstanding rumors of a police cover-up. Meanwhile, Burke was indicted by the feds on December 9 for violating the civil rights of a man accused of stealing his property and conspiring to obstruct a federal investigation into the incident. Should the FBI succeed in nabbing the Long Island Serial Killer—or as some theorists would have it, killers—it will tie together the threads of what has arguably become the most confounding murder mystery in contemporary America.

Unmarked grave of Maureen Brainard-Barnes at St Mary's Cemetery in New London, Connecticut. Photo by Laura McClintock

No one would have ever known about the Long Island Serial Killer if not for Shannan Gilbert, who ran through a gated community in Oak Beach that May morning not far from the unseen resting places of various other sets of female remains.

She called 9-1-1 and told the operator, "They are trying to kill me." A record of her phone call exists, but Suffolk County District Attorney Tom Spota's office has chosen not to release it to the public. Spota's office declined to comment to VICE, instead deferring questions about the investigation to the police. Those who have listened to the tape diverge when describing Gilbert's tone. Detective Vincent Stephan of the Suffolk County Police Department penned an op-ed to Newsday in an effort to blunt criticism by Gilbert's family, claiming that her voice was calm. Dormer, however, told VICE that Gilbert was "in distress" on the tape when he heard it and "scared out of her mind."

The "they" in Gilbert's call, like almost everything else about her death, remains an enigma. No one knows who she believed was trying to kill her, and a fair share of people doubt that anyone ever was. Michael Pak, Gilbert's driver, had brought her to the private seaside community of 72 houses under the auspices of entertaining just one man: Joseph Brewer. Brewer's life in Oak Beach, by the accounts of those who knew him, was that of an idle middle-aged bachelor with an appetite for paid sex. No one publicly considered him to be dangerous. He summoned Pak at around 5 AM to escort Gilbert back to Jersey City, where she lived, but for some still-mysterious reason Gilbert called the police and fled, ringing doorbells in the creeping dawn, begging someone—anyone—for help.

("I put my faith in the police," Brewer said over the phone when asked about Gilbert for this story, before hanging up. According to Dormer, the former police commissioner, suspicions about Brewer were dismissed early on in the investigation.)

Dormer summarizes the morning Gilbert disappeared this way: After she ran from Brewer's house, she rang the doorbell of an elderly man named Gus Coletti, now deceased, who also called the police. Pak circled his black Ford Explorer toward her, and when he did, Gilbert scrambled in the direction of candle-shaped electric lights positioned along a windowsill. Those lights, according to neighbors, were part of a nearly decade-old vigil held by a woman named Barbara Brennan, a widow who lost her husband during the September 11 terrorist attacks. Brennan didn't answer Shannan's knocking, and instead made two phone calls: one to police at 5:22 AM, and another to a neighbor she trusted, Tom Canning.

Canning, a tall, retired landscaper with a veiny, rubicund complexion and a shock of white hair, claims to have arrived at Brennan's house with his dog, a Weimaraner.

"There was nobody there for me to rescue," Canning recalls, staring down at the deck of his home in Oak Beach before letting his eyes drift out to direction of the Atlantic Ocean's soft rocking tide. "I wish I had the chance to help her."

Gilgo Beach, Long Island, New York. The bodies of Maureen Brainard-Barnes, Megan Waterman, Melissa Barthelemy and Amber Lynn Costello were discovered from December 11–13, 2010. Photo by Laura McClintock

Canning points away from the water and to the left of his house where a thick carpet of reeds as tall as an adult man stretch out into the horizon.

"She ran into the marsh," he says, referring to the place where Gilbert's body was found.

Other accounts diverge from Canning's. His then-20-year-old son Justin told the New York Post in 2010: "We saw her footprints in the sand. She was in a panic. We thought she was on drugs."

The elder Canning denies ever having seen footprints in the sand. His son Justin declined an invitation to be interviewed for this story.

Joe Scalise is a septuagenarian state park employee with eyes that match the blue of the ocean surrounding Oak Beach, where he and his family have lived for over four decades. He recalls an interaction he had in Canning's driveway shortly after Hurricane Sandy, close to a year after police finally found the body of Gilbert. The alleged encounter surrounded another Oak Beach resident named Peter Hackett, a former surgeon for the Suffolk County Police Department and a friend of Canning's.

"Canning told me after Sandy that Dr. Hackett sedated Shannan Gilbert," Scalise says. But Canning denies that Hackett had any contact with Shannan Gilbert after she rang Brennan's doorbell. "He's crazy," Canning says of Scalise.

Regardless of who's telling the truth, Hackett is an important name in this saga. Among a circle of online conspiracy buffs, he is a bigger and more divisive celebrity than Donald Trump: Depending on whom you ask, Hackett is either a sick, deranged killer, or a Girardian scapegoat, a socially awkward man with a prosthetic limb and propensity for self-exaggeration that made him the easiest possible answer to a community's fears.

It took months for the police to connect Gilbert's emergency call to reports of a panic-stricken woman knocking on doors in Oak Beach. The reason for this delay relates to a procedural failure: When the 9-1-1 operator asked Gilbert where she was, the answer she gave, according to Dormer, was something to the effect of "around Jones Beach." Jones Beach, a popular weekend destination for New Yorkers who most likely know little else about Long Island not gleaned from gossip columns about the Hamptons and the songbook of Billy Joel, was the most frequently mentioned destination Gilbert would have seen on road signs as Pak's SUV approached Brewer's home. It's also a state park, which meant that her call that morning was transferred to state, rather than local, authorities.

To Gilbert, Ocean Parkway must have looked like a stark and forbidding horizon of blackness, moonlight, and waves. When she died, it's fair to assume that she had no tangible idea where she was.

Mari Gilbert, left, looks on as her lawyer John Ray speaks to the media at a news conference in Babylon, NY, Tuesday, December 20, 2011. (AP Photo/Seth Wenig)

According to Shannan Gilbert's mother, Hackett called her two days after her daughter's disappearance and uttered seven words:

I run a home for wayward girls.

Hackett denied ever calling Gilbert's mother until phone records determined that he did in fact call her—twice. Hackett sent two letters to 48 Hours Mystery, a documentary program on CBS that covered the Long Island Serial Killer saga back in 2011, acknowledging that he made the calls but denying that he ever met Shannan, took her in, or administered drugs to her.

The Gilbert family doesn't agree with his side of the story, to put it mildly.

"Dr. Hackett told Mari Gilbert that he ran a home for wayward girls, and that Shannan was in his care," says John Ray, an attorney for the Gilbert family. "Why would anyone do something like that?"

The Gilbert family filed a wrongful death suit against Hackett in November 2012, claiming that he took Shannan into his home that morning and administered drugs to her, facilitating her death. Ray, an affable man with a tight, gray ponytail, tells his version of the complex story of the Long Island Serial Killer with the command of a great conductor tackling Mahler. He slows down to build tension, allowing room for the listener's curiosity to trickle through the many obscure coincidences along the way.

"I have a tremendous respect for homicide detectives," he insists from his warm, book-lined office in Port Jefferson. "But after putting over 750 hours of work into this case, I can see that the police have been deliberate in covering it up."

Ray has deposed most of the key players in the Shannan Gilbert story, including Hackett and his family. He claims that many things that should have been standard protocol in a homicide investigation went undone, and that "many things that shouldn't have been done were." Hackett's home, boat, and car, Ray says, were incompletely searched, and police have never volunteered whether or not the soil underneath the spot where Gilbert's body was found ever got tested for particles of flesh (to determine whether or not she had decomposed there, or was dumped ). The Suffolk County Police Department, when reached for comment, would not confirm or deny any of Ray's allegations.

Michael Baden, an independent medical investigator retained by Ray on behalf of the Gilbert family, told me Gilbert's hyoid bone, a small, curved part of the throat, was found deformed. He claims that could have been caused by strangulation, but without access to Gilbert's soft tissue, which according to Baden's findings was boiled away soon after the initial autopsy, he was unable to make a definitive determination of her cause of death. While frustrating, Baden notes that the boiling away of soft tissue post-autopsy is a fairly commonplace identifying procedure, and—though he feels it was unnecessary here—not indicative of an effort to obscure evidence on the part of authorities.

But Baden suspects that Gilbert was murdered for additional reasons beyond the deformity of her hyoid bone. He says Gilbert's body was found belly-up, unusual for a drowning victim, and that her belongings were strewn around her, suggesting her corpse was carried to the spot where it was found.

Ray highlights that Hackett's phone call to Mari Gilbert matches a known tendency of the Long Island Serial Killer to taunt the family members of his victims. Amanda Barthelemy, the younger sister of Melissa Barthelemy—who disappeared in 2009 and was discovered during the search for Gilbert as a skeleton wrapped in burlap along the bramble of Ocean Parkway in December 2010—was tormented by the killer in a series of violent and sexually explicit phone calls made from locations in and around Midtown Manhattan. Ray also notes that the second call, made by Hackett five days after Gilbert's initial disappearance, bounced off of a cell tower in New Jersey, a place Ray says Hackett denied traveling to that week.

When deposed, Hackett allegedly volunteered that he owned a DEA license marked with an X, a designation that would have enabled him to prescribe certain opiates. Hackett also allegedly admitted to Ray that he regularly consumed a cocktail of self-prescribed opiates and other drugs. Stories of opiate addiction are common in Oak Beach, and Scalise and his family claim that Hackett was using his access to a prescription pad to subsist as a quasi–drug dealer after allegedly being fired by the county.

Still, despite Ray's massive file of interviews, and the litany of amateur sleuths convinced of his guilt, questions remain about Hackett's involvement: If police did make an effort to cover-up the identity of the Long Island Serial Killer, as many believe, why would they protect such a man? Hackett certainly wouldn't have been saved from arrest by the authorities: According to Ray, he said under oath that he was fired by Suffolk County for misusing a work cell phone and claiming to be at work when he wasn't actually there. After the tragedy of Flight 800, when a plane burst into a fireball, scattering the remains of 230 passengers across Suffolk County in 1996, Hackett embarrassed the department by embellishing his role in the investigation to local papers. He was, to quote one officer of the Suffolk County Police Department who prefers to remain anonymous, "a squirrel"—a man who would be easy enough to arrest without causing embarrassment.

Finally, Hackett's wife, son, and daughter were living at his house in Oak Beach at the time of Gilbert's disappearance, and would likely have to somehow be complicit in his supposedly murderous double life. That would present a tortuous front for a family to maintain for so many years.

Hackett's public persona has evolved over the five-plus years since Gilbert first vanished from Oak Beach. 48 Hours Mystery spoke to Hackett outside of his home, where he denied remembering the phone call to Gilbert's mother. Journalist Robert Kolker, whose 2013 book Lost Girls centers on the often sad circumstances through which the victims of the Long Island Serial Killer fell into a life of sex work, was invited into Hackett's Oak Beach home in December of 2011, several months after the interview with 48 Hours, and the doctor denied his involvement in Gilbert's disappearance at length.

But somewhere along the way, Hackett stopped talking. Crime Watch Daily, a syndicated investigative newsmagazine series, followed Hackett to his car in December after he completed one of Ray's depositions: In the clip, Hackett appears to fake a heart attack after being asked whether or not he was responsible for the deaths of the women found on Ocean Parkway. Shortly after clutching his chest and falling to the ground, the doctor hops into his car, closes the door, and makes the sign of the cross in the falling dusk.

Hackett, like others touched by Gilbert's disappearance that night, including Barbara Brennan and Joseph Brewer, moved away from Oak Beach, perhaps in an effort to put distance between his name and a story that never seems to fade away. I reached out to his lawyer, but the calls weren't returned. Hackett supposedly lives in Fort Myers, Florida, now, and a trip to a different Long Island address in a town called Point Lookout, belonging to Hackett's wife Barbara, turned up a younger woman at the door last month. When asked if either Peter Hackett or his wife could be reached for comment on this story, the woman glared sharply.

"They don't want to talk to you," she said, and slammed the door.

Gilgo Beach, Long Island. Photo by Laura McClintock

Richard Dormer just wants to clarify one important detail.

"The FBI came back," he says, nodding his pale forehead over a cardboard cup of black coffee. "They aren't coming for the first time—they came back."

There is an old-fashioned charm to the former Suffolk County police commissioner, spiced by his Irish accent, a remnant from when he immigrated to America back in 1958. Dormer maintains the same theories he held about the investigation that he did at the time he led it: Gilbert got high, freaked out, ran into the marsh, and drowned. The bodies that have been found through the years were the work of one killer. The fact that Gilbert was a sex worker, and died next to the burial ground of so many others like her, is simply a coincidence.

"She was a skeleton," Dormer claims of the toxicology report he says found no traces of drugs in Gilbert's system. "There was nothing much there to test."

The former cop is cagey about the way his successor handled the case, but is determined to reassure me—and the public—that he did everything he could to solve it.

"I'm not going to talk about Burke," Dormer says. "But I do have serious concerns that this investigation suddenly went dormant."

Former Suffolk County Police Chief James Burke, who rose through the ranks around the same time Hackett was a fixture there, is running low on defenders. His trial is set to begin this March for an incident in which he allegedly burst into an interrogation room and beat a suspect raw for stealing a duffel bag from his car. Inside the duffel bag, the thief claimed to find a stash of sex toys, cigars, and hardcore porn. Burke allegedly threatened the thief by saying that he would give him a hot shot, a slang term for murdering a man by injecting him with a fatal dose of tainted heroin. Burke also once carried on an ongoing romantic relationship with a convicted sex worker and drug dealer by the name of Lowrita Rickenbacker who committed her offenses in the precinct where he was a supervisor.

Burke's violent backstory fuels concerns that he deliberately slowed down the investigation of the Long Island Serial Killer after taking it over from Dormer. The man entered law enforcement as a witness in one of the most infamous murder cases in Long Island history: the John Pius trial of 1979. During the proceedings, a 14-year-old Burke testified against his own friends, who had sadistically bullied and murdered a 13-year-old boy by stuffing rocks down his throat. Many observers have questioned the degree to which the younger Burke might have been complicit in the horrific crime, given that he failed to intervene when it was happening. The young prosecutor who handled the Pius case was Spota, who now serves as Suffolk County district attorney and facilitated Burke's emergence as the most powerful cop in the county. Local papers describe Spota's relationship to Burke as a nurturing one, the prosecutor helping him become chief in 2012.

(The FBI declined to comment as to whether an investigation into Burke's abuses of authority was in any way connected to the investigation of the Long Island Serial Killer. Spota's office declined to comment on the district attorney's relationship to Burke. Burke, speaking through his attorney, Joseph Conway, declined to comment on the Long Island Serial Killer investigation or the charges he is facing.)

Timothy Sini, the recently appointed commissioner of the Suffolk County Police Department, now heads up the investigation of the Long Island Serial Killer. He's the third person to assume authority over the probe since the bodies were discovered in 2010. In a phone interview, he told me that, in addition to the feds, two homicide detectives are working full time on the case, and as many as a dozen other detectives are also in the loop.

"Any shortcomings of this investigation from the past will be looked into going forward," Sini said, in reference to Burke. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this situation."

He expressed optimism that the case was still solvable.

"We still get tips every day," he said. "Unfortunately, most of them seem to involve women who suspect their husband to be the killer."

Sini's final words about women suspecting their husbands might be an oblique reference to a woman in her 40s who told me about an 80-page report she says she provided to the FBI, implicating her husband in a grand conspiracy of serial murder that also allegedly implicated James Burke. She claims to have tied them together through a website called Utopia Guide, where men rate and discuss sex workers together at length. The woman believes the men threw sex parties together under the name Carney Construction Crew, and that some of the women who were hired were later disposed of in the bramble along Ocean Parkway. This unsubstantiated theory speaks to the wormhole of ideas bandied about every day both online and in local bars throughout Long Island.

There are those who believe that a prominent Suffolk County businessman, who may have committed suicide on the anniversary of the bodies being found, did the deeds. There are others who insist the murders to be the work of a satanic cult, or of a man who made snuff films. There are those who talk about Eyes Wide Shut-style sex parties on big, expensive boats, where influential men in Suffolk politics had an incentive to cover-up their dalliances. Some connect the bodies on Ocean Parkway to the unsolved murder of four women in Atlantic City in 2006. There is the unverifiable rumor of an African-American sex worker who allegedly escaped from Oak Beach in the dead of night sometime before 2010, and ran semi-naked along the parkway, screaming, "They're trying to kill me" in the same manner that Shannan Gilbert did on the morning she vanished.

All of it is frightening, but none of it points to anything definitive, or clear.

Eventually, it all comes back to the start: Shannan Gilbert picked up the phone to call 9-1-1 from Joe Brewer's house in Oak Beach, Long Island. For reasons that no one can seem to explain, she knew that she was about to die.

Michael Edison Hayden grew up on Long Island. His work has been featured in the New York Times, Foreign Policy, the Los Angeles Times, and National Geographic, among other publications. Follow him on Twitter.

Bill Cosby Could Dodge Sexual Assault Charges on a Weird Technicality

$
0
0

In this courtroom sketch, attorneys Monique Pressley, left, Brian McMonagle, right, and Christopher Taybeck, second right, listen along with their client Bill Cosby, during Cosby's court appearance Tuesday in Norristown, Pennsylvania. (Jane Rosenberg via AP)

The lone sexual assault case against disgraced comedian Bill Cosby might not even make it to trial.

At a hearing Tuesday morning, lawyers for the 78-year-old entertainer grilled the former prosecutor who declined to charge Cosby back in 2005. That's when Andrea Constand, a Canadian who was working for the basketball program at Temple University in Philadelphia, first accused Cosby of drugging and assaulting her at his suburban home in 2004. Former Montgomery County District Attorney Bruce L. Castor Jr. told a judge Tuesday that he effectively gave Cosby immunity from criminal charges back then in order to compel him to testify in a civil suit instead.

"I decided that we would not prosecute Mr. Cosby and that would set a chain of events that would get some justice for Andrea Constand," the former district attorney said, suggesting that getting her money was "the best he could do." The civil suit was settled in 2006.

The problem is that there doesn't seem to be any written record of any deal—which Castor has denied was a formal one—and the lawyer who represented Cosby at the time is now dead. For his part, Kevin Steel, the new Montgomery County prosecutor who replaced Castor after unseating him last fall, says he won't throw out the case—even if evidence of a deal emerges. The whole situation is kind of a mess, and depending on what Judge Steven T. O'Neill decides, Castor's recollection of the alleged agreement could get Cosby off from the only criminal rape case against him on a mere technicality.

What makes the whole thing even stickier is that it was the very same civil suit testimony Cosby gave that inspired the new criminal case a decade later. According to an affidavit, Constand said she was at the sitcom star's house in 2004 when he offered her three blue pills and some wine. Constand added that she remembered being led to a couch and fondled, and when she came to at about 4 AM, Cosby allegedly led her to the door and said, "Alright."

According to Castor, when Constand first filed a police report, there wasn't enough evidence to charge Cosby. He added on the stand Tuesday that Constand was not behaving like a sexual assault victim when she reported the alleged crime, because she went to a lawyer before going to police. "I came to the conclusion that there was no way that the case could ever improve and get better with time absent Mr. Cosby's confession," Castor told the court Tuesday. "Andrea Constand's own actions during that year ruined her credibility as a viable witness."

For what it's worth, Castor added that he thinks the alleged victim was, in fact, touched inappropriately by Cosby, but didn't believe he could prove it.

Of course, when the deposition in the 2005-06 civil suit was unsealed last summer, key parts of Constand's allegations were corroborated. For instance, Cosby openly admitted to giving Quaaludes to women he wanted to have sex with, and the unsealing had an apparent domino effect, with dozens of women subsequently coming forward to say they had similar experiences where they allegedly got drugged and assaulted by the former sitcom star.

The public was so outraged by the revelations that the prosecution of Cosby quickly became politicized, adding a final wrinkle to the whole affair: Steel, the current prosecutor going after Cosby, promised to reopen the case if voters gave him Castor's job.

Cosby is charged with aggravated indecent assault, and faces up to ten years behind bars if the case goes to trial. The pre-trial hearing is expected to continue Wednesday.

Follow Allie Conti on Twitter.

Watch the Premiere of Pussy Riot's New Video 'CHAIKA'

$
0
0

It's been almost four years to the day since Pussy Riot, the Russian anarcho-punk, feminist band, performed its legendary protest/set "Punk Prayer - Mother of God, Chase Putin Away!" on the altar of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, in Moscow.

Since then, the group has been arrested for its anti-government sentiments, put on trial, imprisoned, and finally—after the intervention of human rights groups and international media—freed. Yet, none of that has stopped the band from continuing to release a constant stream of songs, videos and articles, all with the goal of fighting the rampant corruption in the Putin's regime

Today, Pussy Riot is releasing its latest music video, "CHAIKA," named after Russia's current prosecutor general, Yuri Chaika.

Chaika was in the international press recently, when anti-Putin activist Alexei Navalny posted a film he made online that alleges the family and business associates—most specifically the son—of the prosecutor general have direct ties to the Russian mob, and that Chaika himself is mired in corruption. Since the release of this film the Russian government has denied the allegations and refused to discuss or cover the video on state-controlled media platforms. The Kremlin has also passed multiple laws that increase its control over what content can be posted online, and that may even allow them to block outlets like Facebook, Twitter and YouTube.

We spoke to Pussy Riot front-woman Nadya Tolokonnikova about why the band chose to make Chaika the subject of its latest video, and why it thinks the situation in Russia has gotten worse since the revolution in 2012.

Photo by Denis Sinyakov

VICE: What is your latest video about?
Nadya Tolokonnikova: "CHAIKA" is a message from a top Putinist official to his sons and followers. It's a tutorial on how to pinch out money, raid enterprises, send competitors to prison or physically eliminate them. And also what to do in order to not only escape imprisonment for yourself, but to prosper.

Why is it important for the public to learn about Yuri Chaika?
Chaika is the Prosecutor General of the Russian Federation. Since he acceded to office in 2006 he has not completed any major investigations. Chaika is something more than a talentless, mediocre official. He personifies a typical modern protagonist—a normal representative of Russian contemporary state mafia.

Mikhail Zygar, former editor in chief of Rain—the only independent TV channel in Russia—discussed the role of the prosecutor's office in his book All Kremlin Warrior Host. He writes, "The General Prosecutor's office became an example of political voluntarism. It executed the political will of the Kremlin in the most rough and brusque way, often not taking into consideration the intricacies of human rights. In the run-up to any regional elections the prosecutor's office flawlessly laid accusations against undesirable candidates and did everything not to let them reach election day. The General Prosecutor's office turned into a perfectly established and smoothly running repressive machine."

Quite a paradoxical system of employee selection has been applied in Russian military and judicial authorities since the 2000s, i.e. since Vladimir Putin became the president. Honest prosecutors, policemen and judges are not profitable or convenient in the current law enforcement system. On the contrary, those who know how to obey and how to start a criminal trial against someone who got in the way, are in hight demand. I shared a prison ward with a former investigator. She had become an investigator out of a misplaced desire to do good that came from watching too many movies about good policemen in her childhood. She was sent to prison by her ex-husband, who was an actual cop.

In the 1990s she had been solving cases to help save people from bad cops and malicious prosecution, and that made her happy. In 2003, she left law enforcement because the work was not interesting for her anymore. No one needed to be investigated anymore and only obedience and hardcore loyalty to superiors were highly prized—including being ready to violate the law if ordered.

How have the people in Russia been reacting to this scandal? Are they even hearing about it?
According to recent polls, the 38 percent of Russians who are aware of the existence of the film Chaika consider the corruption schemes and connections to criminal groups demonstrated in the documentary to be typical phenomena essential to helping modern Russian authorities maintain order.

People often say: "But who's not mafia nowadays? Only corruption is in full bloom in our country. Mafia and corruption... and state authorities are the ones keeping everything under control. What can we do?"

Photo by Denis Sinyakov

How widespread is the corruption in the Russian government today?
The system of state authorities is not just infected with corruption—it is actually firmly based on it. If a judge acquits someone nowadays, his or her colleagues immediately start suspecting them of having been bribed. Most likely, after a series of such sentences such a judge will be fired because his or her superiors would be astonished that he or she could have accepted a bribe and not shared it with them. This is why the rate of acquittals in Russia is just 0.4 percent.

What needs to happen in order to counter this corruption—both from within Russia and from the international community?
1) The refusal to participate in corruption
2) The unveiling of evidence that proves the existence of many different kinds of corruption
3) A bottle of vodka

This video is highly stylized. Tell us about the creative process that you went through to come up with the aesthetic that we see in the video.
Russian authorities cannot even define their own aesthetic, so we had to help them. This video represents three aesthetic elements generally promoted by the state that truly disgust me:
1) Gilding everything to conceal the putrid core underneath—seen in the golden loaf of bread, and all the "Khokhloma" designs
2) "Zone"—represented by the prison camp where all the prisoners are tortured
3) Fascist populist nationalistic aesthetics—represented by the two-headed sea gull, the staging and choreography of the lady prosecutors, and the dances performed in the North Korean style.

First I was a bit anxious as to how those three elements were going to mesh together in the framework of one video, but I calmed down eventually. I realized that if everything failed to make sense together, it's wasn't our fault, because the video is supposed to be about the hideous aesthetic choices of our government officials.

Photo by Aleksandr Sofeev

What is the specific significance of some of the images and themes we see like gluttony, the golden bread, the iron, etc.?
Gluttony symbolizes the core values of the Russian governmental mafia. It is a quintessence of pococurantism, emptiness, surfeit, endless attempts at satiation with material possessions and utter hypocrisy—evidenced in the attempt to promote high moral values to its citizens. When we went to buy prosecutor's uniforms, the smallest size available was six sizes bigger than any of us could wear.

The gilded bread represents that famous ugly golden loaf found in Yanukovich's residence when he fled the country after the Ukrainian revolution in 2014. It appears in the video as a reminder to Putin of that nothing lasts forever. The iron, ropes, whip and handcuffs are classic torture tools, natural attributes of Russian state authority.

In this video, you've switched over to rap rather than your traditional punk rock vibe. Was this intentional? Why rap?
Just by accident! When we make music together, or with someone else, the goal is always to create something weird as hell. In as much as rap was something very weird and unusual for Pussy Riot, we achieved our mission here.

Photo by Aleksandr Sofeev

It's been almost exactly four years since your performance/protest at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. Do you feel that the situation in Russia today is worse, better or unchanged since then?
Russia has turned into a different country since 2012. The most dreadful discovery took place at the end of February 2015, when we learned that you can not only be imprisoned but also shot dead in the center of Moscow because of your political activity. Many people still cannot believe that Boris Nemtsov, the Russian politician, is dead.

What do you hope this video will do for the people of Russia and the world?
Pussy Riot demands an immediate investigation into Prosecutor General Chaika and his family, as well as an investigation into all the top officials in his office. We hope that the video will help to convince people that we cannot live in a country where its top law enforcement official is the brightest symbol of corruption and murder. Pussy Riot hopes that people around the world will help us voice our outrage and turn Russia into a country where people like Chaika can no longer exist.

What's next for Pussy Riot?
FSB knows.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Follow Dory Carr-Harris on Twitter.

The VICE Morning Bulletin

$
0
0


The Aedes aegypti mosquito, one of the main transmitters of the Zika virus. Photo via Wikimedia.

Everything you need to know about the world this morning, curated by VICE.

US News

First Sexually-Transmitted Zika Case Reported
Health officials in Dallas have confirmed the first known case of the Zika virus being transmitted through sex. The person became infected after having sex with an already ill partner who had recently returned from Venezuela. —NBC News

Sanders Campaign Doubts Iowa Result
Aides of Bernie Sanders have called for a review into the Iowa caucus results, following reports of computer glitches and counting errors. "It's not that we think anybody did anything intentionally, but human error happens," said a Sanders spokeswoman. —USA Today

Exonerations Reach Record High
A report published today has found a record number of people—149—were exonerated of crimes in the US last year. Of those wrongly convicted for homicides, the National Registry of Exonerations said "more than two-thirds were minorities." —ABC News

Legal Weed Becomes $5 Billion Industry
Legal marijuana is the nation's fastest growing industry, according to a new market research report, which found sales skyrocketed by 80 percent last year to more than $5 billion. The industry is projected to grow further in 2016 and generate $6.7 billion in sales. —VICE News


International News

North Korea Warned Off Missile Launch
South Korea has warned North Korea it will "pay a harsh price" if it goes ahead with a planned launch of an "observation satellite" between February 8 and 25. Critics believe it's cover for a ballistic missile test, and Japan vowed to shoot down any missile over its territory. —BBC News

Australia's Offshore Camps Judged Legal
Australia's High Court has ruled that the government's offshore detention of asylum seekers is legal, sparking criticism from human rights groups. The verdict means 267 asylum-seekers currently in Australia will likely now be deported to the Pacific island of Nauru. —Al Jazeera

Explosion on Somalian Plane
An explosion blew a huge hole in a Somalian commercial airliner, forcing it to make an emergency landing shortly after leaving Mogadishu airport. The cause of the explosion is unknown, but the Serbian pilot is reported to have said he believes it was a bomb. Two people were injured. —AP

End to European Open Border Area Would Cost Europe $120 Billion
A return to border controls in Europe would cost countries in the Schengen open-borders area about $120 billion over the next decade, according to a French government think tank. The study by France Strategie predicted a huge drop in tourism and trade. —Reuters


Kanye West. Photo via Flickr user Pieter-Jannick Dijkstra

Everything Else

Kanye Album Poll Got More Votes Than Iowa
Kim Kardashian polled her Twitter audience to decide the most popular title for Kanye West's new album. The vote got 439,102 responses, more than the 420,000 participants in the Iowa caucuses. —The Huffington Post

Broncos Star in Prostitution Sting
The Denver Broncos have sent home rookie Ryan Murphy from Super Bowl preparations after he was questioned in a prostitution sting. Murphy was released by police, but his brother and a suspected prostitute received citations. —ESPN

Uber Makes Money from Dead Miles
Uber is generating money even when its drivers are doing "dead miles," roaming around unpaid, waiting for their next request. New research shows unpaid drivers are continuing to generate useful and lucrative data. —Motherboard

Canadian Police Confiscate New W-18 Drug
Canadian police officers have confiscated samples of an opioid known as W-18, believed to have been imported from China by organized crime. It is 100 times more powerful than fentanyl, the OxyContin pill it is supposed to resemble, and 10,000 times more powerful than morphine. —VICE



Done with reading today? watch our video 'The Real 'Better Call Saul'?'

What Life Is Like for a Young Muslim Convert

$
0
0


Dalton Mtengwa

Whether it's squabbling about the burqa or being hostile to Muslim refugees fleeing to Europe, Islam—and all sorts of inflammatory statements about it—has dominated Western headlines for the past decade or so. Among all that loud, bolshy coverage, Muslims and those converting to Islam have been forced to deal with mistrust, obtuse interpretations of their beliefs, or just straight up hatred.

With the last census finding the number of Britons choosing to convert to Islam had more than doubled in the decade preceding, now—more than ever—Muslim converts are finding it difficult to allay their new faith with the society around them. A study published today by Cambridge University's Center of Islamic Studies has found that male converts are routinely misunderstood by their peers, families, and people within their newly-adopted faith.

The study of 50 Muslim men living in the UK finds that "there is often targeting of converts by the British Security Services to work as informants," and that their integration into their new community can be "tenuous." White converts "lose their white privilege on conversion" and basically the whole thing is chronically misunderstood.

So, what is it that makes young British people convert to Islam? What troubles do new converts run into with their faith as they acculturate? And how has their belief in Islam helped smooth the bump into their new place in society?

Dalton Mtengwa, from Oldham, is 24 and credits converting to Islam last February for saving him from a life of petty crime.

VICE: Hi, Dalton. What made you want to convert to Islam?
Dalton Mtengwa: I converted to Islam because I found the truth—the right faith. I was mostly raised as a Christian, but I never practiced because there's not that much to practice in Christianity. In Islam, there's more—a lot of doctrine and a lot of discipline.

So you were brought up a Christian?
Yeah. I believed in God. I'd go to church every now and then. My auntie, who's really religious, took me to Bible studies. It was decent, but I was too young to know much about it. It didn't really do it for me, to be honest—not compared to Islam. It's a religion that everyone should participate in. I don't believe there should be so many religions in this world. There should be one religion and everyone should worship the one and only God.

So you wanted spiritual fulfillment but couldn't find it in church?
I went to church because I was searching for cleansing, salvation. I'd been through a lot—depression. A lot of people go through depression when they haven't got peace in their heart.

What do you think caused your depression?
Life in general. Not having the chance to have what I wanted in life so I could progress further—that leads to committing crimes, drug abuse, and stuff like that. I was depressed from about 16 onwards.

Did you commit crimes?
I was involved with crimes and stuff like that, yeah. In my early teenage years I had a tough time at school. I was naughty and was always in trouble. I was easily distracted. I was very popular, which can be quite dangerous. I grew up all over the UK, left school at 17 and tried to go to college, but I found it difficult to adapt. I was more into street life. I was still doing crimes. At college I did get a merit for sport science, but otherwise I struggled.

In your experience, is it common for people who convert to have had a difficult time?
It's very common. The stuff I was doing were just normal teenage crimes—theft, robbery, gang-related stuff. I was in with the wrong crowd, and there was peer pressure. A lot of us were chasing this life of materialistic things. I committed crimes so I had extra money to buy things I saw other people had. It's like a competition. The flashiest things I bought were designer clothes, gold chains, and a lot of watches. Last February I embraced Islam and my outlook changed. It teaches me to be humble and try not to be greedy. When you die, these things don't come with you. It's just your deeds—Allah only judges us on this, not if you're driving a Mercedes Benz.

How did you discover Islam?
My friends introduced it to me—brothers would say to me: "You should take Shahada." It's basically a confession that there's only one God, and Mohammed is the last prophet.

Why did they think you specifically should convert?
They thought that I should take it because they thought of me as a religious person. They looked into my heart and they could see the faith in me. When they first met me, they actually thought I was Muslim. I wasn't Christian, really, I was something in the middle, but they were really surprised when I told them.

How does your religion fit in with your life outside of it?
I'm not working at the moment—I'm back at college studying maths and English. Because I didn't have anything before, Islam made me want to better myself and concentrate on my studies. I'm also doing an Islamic course with a guy called Sheikh Bilal, who is also a convert—learning about the beliefs, the religion, doctrine, and rectification of prayer. There aren't that many other converts near to where I live.

What's your dating life like now?
My attitude has really changed. If you want to get married, you have to be organized. You don't just, like, meet up in a bar. The first time you meet, you might like each other, then she'll get one of her brothers to make up a group chat for me, her, and her brother on WhatsApp. We'll get to know each other that way—it's not done in a sly way. My relationships with women beforehand were hectic. In my religion, I would say there's more romance. There's a lot of respect.

Are you still friends with your old group?
No—my circle is very small. I keep myself to myself. I tend to do my five daily prayers, and the more you do that the closer you are to God. So you always have a routine that you're looking forward to. So I don't have much time. I still see one or two of them, but when I was going through a lot of hardships, people weren't really there for me.

Do you think Islamophobia is a big problem in the UK?
Yeah, it really is a problem. People need to wake up to it.

Have you experienced Islamophobia?
No. And I've never witnessed any abuse.

What was your family's reaction when you converted?
At first my family was a bit confused about me converting, because Muslims were something they'd only ever seen on the TV. They were a bit like: "What's going on here?" The media always portrays Islam as a bad religion. They now realize that I've turned my life around and I'm a lot more chilled out and humble.

Do you ever feel different or cut off from them?
Some converts say it's like that, but it's been the other way around for me. I feel much closer to my family now. Lots of Muslim converts are misunderstood, but people should just get to know them if they want to find out what it's about.

Follow Helen on Twitter.

Viewing all 55411 articles
Browse latest View live