Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Criminal.

The Cannibal Brothers of Bhakkar: A Real-Life Horror That Stole People’s Sleep
Imagine a moonlit night, silence in a graveyard, and the sound of shovels digging into fresh soil. Two brothers unearthed corpses, carried them home, chopped the bodies into pieces, cooked the flesh with spices, and ate it as if it were a normal curry. This is not a horror movie plot—it is the true story of two Pakistani brothers from Kohawar Kalan village in Bhakkar District, Punjab.
By Janalamabout a year ago in Criminal
The Rise of New Powers After World War 3
The Rise of New Powers After World War 3 How Global Conflict Could Reshape the Balance of Power If a Third World War were to break out, the devastation would not be limited to battlefields and bombed-out cities. The conflict would also dismantle the political and economic order that has defined the modern age. Nations that survive the opening strikes would likely emerge wounded and exhausted, leaving room for new players to step forward. History reminds us that every great conflict rearranges the balance of power. After the First World War, vast empires collapsed. After the Second, the United States and the Soviet Union rose to dominate global affairs. Should another world war erupt, a similar shift—though perhaps far more dramatic—would be inevitable.
By Wings of Time about a year ago in Criminal
The Queen of Canada
It can be very hard to be a Canadian. September has arrived, and I can feel a change in the air. The weather is still sunny and bright, but cool air now circulates around my legs and I can feel it on my runs and trips to local markets, cafés and parks. I have begun a few classes, ended others, considered how to pay my bills while waiting for money to come in, and thought about what the next few months will bring.
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Criminal
From Defense to War: What a U.S. “Ministry of War” Would Mean
What if the United States government announced tomorrow that it was renaming the Department of Defense to the Ministry of War? At first glance, it might seem like nothing more than a change in language. But in politics, language is never just language—it shapes perception, frames policy, and influences how nations see themselves and one another. A shift in terminology from “defense” to “war” would represent a dramatic transformation in America’s identity and global posture.
By Muhammad Ibrahimabout a year ago in Criminal
Inside the Mind of Bryan Kohberger: What His Research Papers Reveal
When investigators entered Bryan Kohberger’s apartment near Washington State University after his arrest, they didn’t just find the usual evidence police seek out in a homicide case—clothing, electronics, or DNA swabs. They also cataloged something far stranger: stacks of research papers, quizzes, and essays from his criminology PhD program.
By Lawrence Leaseabout a year ago in Criminal
Psychological torture and the causal connection . Content Warning.
Examines the role of personal experiences and mental health conditions, including personality disorders and trauma, in driving criminal acts, with applications in forensic psychology for profiling and understanding offender motivation.
By Pricetrakerabout a year ago in Criminal
XV . Content Warning.
TW: Murder "Knock, knock, knock" is all she heard. Shiloh was sitting in her living room, watching a scary movie around 8pm when she heard the knocking. Shiloh was only 16 but knew better than to answer the door when her parents weren't home. She only had on a small lamp in the whole house so she immediately paused the TV and shut out the light. "I know you're in there" an eery voice whispered. Shiloh shuddered. This didn't seem right. It was the Eve of Halloween so she assumed it was probably just a neighborhood kid pulling a prank. She still didn't dare answer the door. She did grab her phone, turn it on silent and texted her mom "someone is at the door. Can you look at camera?" Moments later her mom texted "I don't see anyone. Maybe you're hearing things? Watching scary movies again?" Her mother would soon regret not trusting her only daughter.
By Sara Caramellaabout a year ago in Criminal
I Went on the Dark Web and Instantly Regretted It
“This is the story I swore I’d never tell—but the guilt of staying silent is heavier than the fear of admitting it: I went on the dark web, and I wish I never had.”
By Zakir Ullahabout a year ago in Criminal
The Kidnapping at Black Hill
The Kidnapping at Black Hill BY:Ubaid In the bustling city of Karachi lived Seth Irfan Jalali, a wealthy and well-known businessman who had built a vast empire in the clothing trade. He was respected not only for his wealth but also for his honesty and discipline in business. Years ago, his wife had passed away, leaving him with the sole responsibility of raising their two beloved sons, Bilal and Ammar. For Seth Irfan, his boys were the only true treasures of his life, and he would protect them at any cost. But fate had something darker planned. One ordinary evening, as Ammar left his friend’s home and walked toward a waiting taxi, three masked men suddenly appeared out of the shadows. Before Ammar could even realize what was happening, he was seized violently, dragged into a vehicle, and taken away. The masked figures moved quickly, leaving the street silent behind them. Within minutes, the young man was locked inside a large, desolate room of a deserted mansion on the outskirts of the city. Back at home, panic struck like lightning when Seth Irfan learned of his son’s sudden disappearance. The old man’s face turned pale, and his hands trembled. “My son... my Ammar!” he cried in despair. Having already lost his wife, the thought of losing a child was unbearable. He knew he had only two sons, and they were his entire world. The following morning, a phone rang in his mansion. On the other side of the line was a cold and commanding voice. “If you want to see Ammar alive, bring thirty lakh rupees to Black Hill. Delay or inform the police, and you will only find his corpse.” The demand pierced through Seth Irfan’s heart. For a moment, he considered surrendering to their terms, but then his mind turned to the dangers of dealing with criminals. He decided he could not handle the situation alone. Gathering his courage, he immediately contacted Inspector Furqan Mirza, a seasoned officer known for his intelligence and bravery. Within the hour, Inspector Furqan arrived at the mansion. His sharp eyes observed every detail as Seth Irfan narrated the entire story—from Ammar’s last known visit to his friend Athar’s home, to the terrifying call from the kidnappers. The inspector listened carefully, then asked, “Do you know where Athar lives?” “Yes,” replied Seth Irfan, handing over the address. Without wasting a moment, Furqan assembled his team and headed straight toward Athar’s residence. Meanwhile, inside the ruined mansion, the kidnappers reported to their leader. “Boss, we caught him just as he left his friend’s place and walked toward the taxi. We knocked the driver unconscious as well so no one could interfere.” Suddenly, their leader’s face darkened with rage. “Fools! Don’t you realize what you’ve done? The taxi driver will regain consciousness and give your description to the police. If that happens, we are finished!” He ordered furiously, “Go! Find the driver and finish him off before he talks.” Obediently, the three masked men rushed out to silence their only witness. Back in the city, Inspector Furqan had reached Athar’s home. Athar, shocked to hear the news, explained, “Yes, Ammar was with me earlier, but he left after a short visit.” Just as Furqan stepped outside Athar’s house, two constables ran toward him. “Sir, there’s a man lying unconscious inside a taxi nearby. Please come quickly.” The inspector hurried with his team and found the driver slumped in his seat. His pulse was weak, but he was alive. Furqan immediately administered first aid and ordered water to be sprinkled on the man’s face. Slowly, the driver opened his eyes, groaning in pain. “Who attacked you? Do you remember anything?” Furqan asked firmly. The frightened driver nodded. “Yes… three masked men. But when they dragged the boy into their vehicle, their scarves slipped for a moment. I saw their faces!” The inspector wasted no time. Back at the police station, they laid out dozens of photographs of known criminals. The driver studied them carefully. After a tense silence, he pointed at one. “That’s him. I’m certain!” He pointed to another, then another. “These three, yes… these are the men.” The revelation shocked no one in the police department. The suspects were all notorious criminals—repeat offenders who had served sentences in the past. Sub-Inspector Rashid, who had been tracking their movements, stepped forward. “Sir, their current hideout is on the southern edge of the city. There’s a narrow road that leads to Black Hill. Near it stands a crumbling, abandoned mansion. I believe that is where they are keeping the boy.” Inspector Furqan’s eyes gleamed with determination. “Then that’s where we’ll go. Prepare the team.” As night fell, the police convoy moved quietly through the dark, narrow streets, headlights dimmed to avoid detection. The chilling wind blew across Black Hill, carrying whispers of danger. Finally, the outline of the old mansion appeared—its broken windows and crumbling walls standing like a haunted sentinel against the night sky. “Positions!” Furqan ordered. Officers surrounded the property, weapons ready. With a swift motion, Furqan kicked open the main door, and the team stormed inside. The kidnappers, caught off guard, tried to resist. One fired a shot, but the bullet missed. A constable tackled him to the ground. Another kidnapper tried to escape through a back door but was intercepted and pinned down. Within minutes, all three were in handcuffs, their desperate cries echoing through the hollow halls. Furqan raced down to the basement. There, in the dim light, he saw Ammar—tied but alive, his eyes wide with fear. “Don’t worry, son,” Furqan said gently as he cut the ropes. “You’re safe now.” Ammar burst into tears of relief. The inspector placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and led him out into the fresh night air. When the news reached Seth Irfan Jalali, he rushed to the police station where his son had been brought. Father and son embraced tightly, both weeping with gratitude. “Inspector Furqan,” Seth Irfan said with trembling voice, “you have not only saved my son but also saved my life. I will forever remain indebted to you.” The inspector smiled modestly. “It is my duty to protect the people of this city. Evil never wins as long as justice stands strong.” And so, the nightmare ended. The kidnappers were behind bars, and peace returned to the Jalali household. But the incident left a powerful lesson behind—wealth may protect one’s business, but only courage and justice can protect life.
By Ubaid about a year ago in Criminal
The Criminal’s Confession
M Mehran Detective Harris had been chasing Adrian Cole for seven years. Seven years of robberies with no fingerprints, escapes with no traces, and heists so clean they were studied like art. Adrian wasn’t just a thief—he was a ghost. Banks called him a criminal. The media called him The Gentleman. Harris called him an obsession. Now, for the first time, Adrian sat across from him in a dim interrogation room. Hands cuffed, suit still pressed, eyes calm as still water. “Do you know how many people you’ve hurt?” Harris asked, slamming a folder on the table. “Families ruined. Businesses collapsed. And for what? Money?” Adrian smiled faintly. “Not money, Detective. Truth.” Harris frowned. “Truth doesn’t buy sports cars.” “No,” Adrian said, leaning forward, “but it unmasks liars. And every crime I committed was a mirror. For your information—” He paused, eyes glittering. “I’m not the criminal you think I am.” --- The first time Harris had heard Adrian’s name was during the Riverton Bank Heist. Cameras caught nothing but a glitch of static. By morning, every vault was empty, but the bank’s ledgers—hidden deep in those vaults—were what Adrian had stolen. Days later, leaked documents revealed Riverton had been laundering money for politicians. Careers ended overnight. “Coincidence,” Harris muttered now, flipping pages in the folder. “You steal money, people happen to fall.” Adrian tilted his head. “And the second heist? The insurance giant that denied cancer patients their payouts? The files I took showed every fraudulent claim. Thousands got justice. Or the art dealer who smuggled stolen relics? I stole them back.” Harris clenched his jaw. “You’re a thief. Nothing more.” Adrian chuckled softly. “No, Detective. I’m what this city refuses to admit it needs. A criminal who robs criminals.” --- The silence stretched between them. Harris wanted to dismiss the words, but deep inside, he remembered. Every Adrian Cole job ended not just in loss but in exposure. Scandals. Investigations. Trials. And yet, he couldn’t let himself waver. Justice was law, and law didn’t bend for men who made their own rules. “You think you’re a hero?” Harris asked. “I think I’m necessary.” Adrian’s voice dropped, serious now. “The system protects the powerful. I simply even the scales.” Harris tapped the folder. “Necessary or not, you’re caught. And this time, you’re not escaping.” Adrian’s smile widened, almost pitying. “That’s where you’re wrong.” --- The lights flickered. A low hum filled the room. Harris spun toward the door just as the glass on the observation window blacked out. The cameras went dead. Adrian leaned back in his chair, cuffs glinting. “You’ve spent seven years studying me, Detective. Did you really think I’d walk in here unprepared?” Harris’s pulse quickened. “What did you do?” “Nothing,” Adrian said, as if discussing the weather. “But my friends did. Right now, every piece of evidence in your folder is being uploaded to a dozen news outlets. Corruption cases, fraud, embezzlement—all of it.” The hum stopped. The lights steadied. The observation window cleared. Adrian’s cuffs lay open on the table. Empty. Harris’s heart pounded. He reached for his weapon, but Adrian only raised his hands, calm. “No need for that. I won’t harm you. You’re one of the good ones, Harris. You chase me because you believe in justice. But sometimes, justice needs criminals like me.” --- Before Harris could reply, the door opened. Two guards stepped in—but instead of restraining Adrian, they simply nodded at him. Harris’s stomach sank. “You bribed them.” Adrian shook his head. “No. I convinced them. They read the files. They know the truth. You will too, someday.” And with that, Adrian walked out, leaving Harris frozen in the chair. --- Hours later, as Harris sat alone in his office, his computer pinged. Newsfeeds erupted across the screen: Insurance giant exposed. Politicians tied to laundering scheme. Relics returned to rightful countries. Each headline was a wound to Harris’s certainty. His phone buzzed with a new message. No number. Just three words: “Until next time.” Signed: The Gentleman. Harris closed his eyes. For the first time, he wondered not just how to catch Adrian Cole, but whether he should. Because sometimes, the line between criminal and hero wasn’t just thin. It was invisible.
By Muhammad Mehranabout a year ago in Criminal
Murderer at 14. Content Warning.
This true crime story involves a young girl from Jacksonville, Florida, who reportedly went missing for six days until she was found dead in a teenage boy's room. The boy was named Josh Phillips, a 14-year-old who committed an unbelievable that no teen would ever commit upon a child.
By Gladys W. Muturiabout a year ago in Criminal
The Romeo Killer | Part 2
The morning of November 15, 2004, the University of Rochester campus was quiet in the half-light of late autumn. The air carried a damp chill, the kind that made students quicken their pace between buildings, coffee cups steaming in their hands. It was early, too early for most undergraduates to be out. But a few members of Sigma Phi Epsilon, Chris Porco’s fraternity, were already awake when they noticed him jogging across campus.
By Annieabout a year ago in Criminal