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Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Con Man Dan
Con Man Dan was someone you didn't want to deal with, not ever! He was a con artist (hence his nickname), one who stole from the elderly and gullible youth, preying on innocent idiots and naive aspiring actors, artists, authors, musicians and social media influencers who were willing to do anything to be rich and famous. Don't think for a second that you're somebody special if you do any of the above, millions if not billions of people all across the globe dream of fame. It is by design, it's how big tech companies keep you glued to your phone screens. It's also how self help books sell like hot cakes on the internet. Most of them are full of bullshit and the simple truth behind why they sell so well in the first place, is because hundreds of desperate people are willing to fork over mountains of cash for something that promises them the fame and fortune they seek. That, in a nutshell is what a scam is. A broken promise. Buy this book and you'll know how to make money, the first chapter reads; "sell people a book promising success and they'll buy it, just like you bought this one and that's how you make money". It's that simple and Con Man Dan was a pro at this deception, only at least the self help books might actually help you (unlikely but true), Dan's cons were far less forgiving. He mostly operated in the city of New York (occasionally nipping to LA, especially around Hollywood to fool desperate wannabe celebrities, into buying into his false promises). He lived in the big apple and knew there were a lot (and I mean A LOT) of young business men who wanted to be the next wolf of Wall street. Yet, Dan knew too well that the movies made this gig look way too easy and fun. The Hollywood movies will lie, saying almost anyone can become a millionaire wall street trader overnight. Reality is always far more difficult and Dan knew that far too well. He was an older man, who often preyed on the impressionable youth who still believed in those fantastical dreams. He ran a classic investment scam on many young Americans, "invest with MegaTech (an electronics company he made up) and I can promise you, in a year's time; you'll quadruple your stock value! MegaTech is a new upcoming company that will take Silicon Valley by storm!" Con Man Dan would exclaim to them, smiling his salesman's grin, he'd even go so far as to show them fake sales charts of the company's success over the recent years. Of course many knew this was too good to be true, yet very few actually believed in his lies and that's all Dan needed. Just a few. Even if it was just one dumb kid (or elderly nanny) who believed him, he knew he'd be walking home a rich man, leaving them poor and enraged! He did not care, that scumbag! Well, one day he scammed the wrong woman. Her name was Maria Samaris, an elderly lady (of course) who put her trust into Dan's fake persona and false assurances that he only wished to help invest her retirement money properly. Dan pulled off this exact scam a million times before, however what he didn't count on was the fact Maria was related to some very serious, scary and deadly crime family. He had ripped off the grandmother of Tommy Samaris, the leader of his very own mafia making moves within the city of New York. Once news of Con Man Dan's greatest mistake got out, Tommy ordered gangsters far and wide to hunt down and kill the bastard. Dan caught news of this and ran! Leaving the city to hide out in the nearby countryside, thinking he was safe, Dan moved into an isolated motel and began new cons on small town folk who were easy prey. Of course, The Samaris heard about this sooner or later, they ordered a man and woman of the gang to Dan in disguise, pretending to be clueless foreigners on a romantic holiday away from Italy. The Samaris crime family was Italian/American after all, so pretending to be dumb tourists was all too easy. "Can you show us on motel laptop?" The woman asked Dan, purposely speaking broken English just to trick him further. "Oh, why yes of course!" He smiled, blissfully unaware of the trap he was walking into, as he entered their motel room. "Where is your computer?" Dan asked smiling, then he suddenly looked terrified as the male tourist pulled out a silenced pistol. "Tommy Samaris sends his regards." The man said coldly, before drilling Con Man Dan with half a dozen bullets. Dan fell back onto the hotel room's bed, staining the sheets red with his blood, killing him instantly. So ended the tale of Con Man Dan.
By Joseph Roy Wright2 years ago in Criminal
Smokey's Gun
Within New Jersey, there was a gang of bikers, calling themselves The Snakes, and each member all had different nicknames. The leader was Smokey, a big bald fella with a million tattoos, a thick manly goatee and a black leather vest that he always wore with his black jeans and army boots. He never wore a helmet, driving his bike with next to no protection, just made him seem all the more badass! Smokey also had a gun, that being a gold painted Desert Eagle, looking like the rare pistol you'll find in that New Order Of Alexandria video game, which was a popular, military shooter at the time. The game was Nick named; "Smokey's Gun" as he always carried it around like some kind of prized trophy, buried under the strap of his belt like some cowboy's revolver holster. Smokey wasn't afraid to use his gun either, often killing those of his gang that stepped out of line. Bang! Just like that, no warning, not even a moment of terror, he'd just end your life in millisecond without any hesitation. It was horrifying to witness and think about, his whole gang were always on the edge of their seat because of how ruthless of a killer Smokey was. Nobody even knew what his true name was (because surely, nobody on earth is actually named Smokey by their parents, right?). Those who dared to ask, also got a bullet to the brain. The message was simple; don't question or disobey Smokey, or you're dead meat! There were some who conspired against him though, although Smokey was terrifying and certainly intimidating, a good gang leader also needs to be charismatic and well liked among his peers, otherwise resentment and jealousy will eventually reveal its ugly head. That's exactly what happened to Smokey, the gang noticed he never figured rival gangsters or nosey police men, always relying on his golden pistol to do the job. It was obvious to everyone that this almost fifty years old gang leader was no martial artist. So much younger, yet equally scary biker began to plot against him. His nickname was; "Cobra" but unlike Smokey, everyone knew Cobra's true name which was; Jerry May. Knowing his real identity made the man far less mysterious and respected among the gang, but Cobra was adamant that he could run the bikers better with less intimidation and more friendly team work. He neglected the fact that The Snakes were a gang of tough guys and gals who wouldn't listen to kindness or politeness, actively rebelling against their own leaders if they showed any weakness. Cobra genuinely believed he was safe from such betrayals, but he'd soon learn just how wrong he really was for even thinking that. So one night, after a long day of gang warfare, when everyone had their guard down; Cobra decided to strike like a snake in the grass. Smokey was high as fuck, watching TV in the gang's private bar, smoking several ounces of marijuana. In fact, a lot of the bikers were. This made it all too easy for Cobra to sneak up on Smokey and steal his golden gun straight out of his jacket pocket. "Wait!" Smokey screamed as Cobra aimed the pistol at his head and fired! A loud bang followed by bloody gore exploded in the room. Everyone stood and screamed. "What have you done?!" One of the terrified bikers asked. "He was a joke!" Cobra laughed, aiming the gun at the scared biker, "I'm in charge now. I got Smokey's Gun, so that makes me leader, see!" "You think any of us would want to work for you after this?!" Another biker yelled, pulling out a pistol of his own, "that's not how it works, Cobra!" Then he fired four times, shooting the assassin in the head, shoulder, knees and toes. Cobra fell with a great big thud! Dying out on the ground, the other bikers gathered round him and began kicking and punching the traitor to death. They buried his body the next day, knowing how to avoid police detection. The man who killed Cobra, was nicknamed Snake Eyes, he was the one to eventually take over as leader of the gang. Unlike Cobra, Snake Eyes really appreciated Smokey, he was a great boss of The Snakes. Snake Eyes struggled to keep the gang on top, as organised crime was no easy feat. Yet, despite this, the gang respected him far more than Cobra could ever dream. Of course Snake Eyes got Smokey's Gun, which in time became Snakes Eyes Gun. So ends this tale of the shake in the grass who got what he deserved. Nobody missed Cobra, in time, nobody will even remember who he was, yet Smokey will always live on in the hearts of The Snakes. Forever and always.
By Joseph Roy Wright2 years ago in Criminal
Death by Easter Egg
Death by Easter Egg In a town in the northwest of England, the thought of Easter filled the air with excitement. The streets were brightly filled with colorful Easter Eggs, and families buzzed joyously about their Easter preparations. However, hidden in this festive atmosphere was the troubled heart of Jason, a man known to some as Dr. Gloom. He nursed a dark obsession for Betty, a lovely woman whose laughter and kindness made her a outstanding figure in the village. Driven by jealousy and a growing bitterness, Jason plotted to take away the very essence of happiness that Betty embodied. Why? because he seen her talking to a man in the supermarket one day. He meticulously crafted a beautiful Easter egg, a delicious-looking confection that sparkled with promise but was laced with a potent poison that would seal her fate.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Criminal
Happiness is illusion
The night was heavy. The room lay in complete darkness, broken only by the soft, rhythmic creak of the ceiling fan. Though it spun slowly, it made a sound loud enough to wake the dead. An owl perched on the window sill, its glowing eyes fixed on me—as if watching over a sleeping corpse.
By Malak MAAZ2 years ago in Criminal
Sinners (2025)
Sinners (2025): A Haunting Tale of Music, Blood, and Legacy Ryan Coogler’s Sinners is a genre-defying film that intertwines supernatural horror with historical drama, set against the backdrop of 1932 Mississippi. The narrative follows twin brothers Elijah "Smoke" and Elias "Stack" (both portrayed by Michael B. Jordan), World War I veterans returning to Clarksdale to open a juke joint for the Black community. Their cousin, Sammie Moore (Miles Caton), a young blues prodigy, becomes the focal point of a nightmarish encounter with vampires drawn to his music.
By James Brock2 years ago in Criminal
The Crimson Ace. AI-Generated.
Detective Lena Ward had seen her fair share of blood, but the scene in the abandoned warehouse on 5th and Mercer chilled her more than usual. A man in his late 30s lay sprawled in a pool of crimson, a joker card placed carefully on his chest. No fingerprints, no murder weapon. Only the card and the message "TWO DOWN" carved into the concrete with what appeared to be a screwdriver. The victim, Marcus Klein, was a defense attorney known for getting high-profile criminals off the hook. Lena recognized his face instantly. Two weeks ago, the same calling card was left on the body of a corrupt judge. Same message, different number: “ONE DOWN.”
By Md Nusaib Ul Islam2 years ago in Criminal
Walk the Plank. AI-Generated.
It had rained all night in the city of Fairview. The streets still shimmered under the morning haze, the scent of wet asphalt hanging in the air. At precisely 6:47 AM, the body of Terrence Hall—a respected community leader and activist—was discovered lying face-down near the old shipyard, a rotting plank from a cargo crate splintered beside him. His skull had been crushed. No signs of a struggle. No weapon in sight. Detective Nathan Boone stood over the yellow tape, sipping lukewarm coffee. He’d known Hall. Everyone had. A loud, fearless man who’d rallied youth programs, taken on corrupt councilmen, and cleaned up the notorious 9th Ward. Hall had made enemies, no doubt—but murder? Boone examined the scene with his usual sharpness. The plank wasn’t from any structure nearby—it was aged, warped, likely driftwood. There were no security cameras in that forgotten part of the city. Whoever did this had planned it well. Hall’s phone was found shattered nearby, but his watch and wallet were untouched. Not a robbery, then. Boone made note of the time and left the scene. His first stop: Hall’s office. It was a modest space filled with protest posters, community flyers, and photos of youth events. His assistant, Carla, was already crying when Boone entered. “Terrence got a threat two nights ago,” she whispered. “Someone slipped a note under the door. It said, ‘Keep pushing, and you’ll fall off the plank.’ He thought it was a joke.” Boone stared at her. “Did he mention any names?” She shook her head. “He just said some people didn’t want him to testify next week.” Boone’s brow furrowed. He remembered reading about a pending court case. Hall was scheduled to testify against Fairview’s largest private contractor, Larkridge Development, accused of fraud and bribery. Hall had proof—documents tying Larkridge to falsified safety reports and kickbacks to city officials. It was supposed to be his biggest stand. Boone drove to City Hall. He knew Councilman Briggs would be there—one of Hall’s loudest critics and a known supporter of Larkridge. The man greeted Boone with a practiced smile. “Terrible news,” Briggs said, voice hollow. “A real loss for the city.” “Tell me about your last interaction with Hall,” Boone asked casually. Briggs leaned back in his leather chair. “We disagreed often, but I respected the man. We had a heated meeting last week, but that’s nothing new.” Boone nodded. “Do you know anything about a threat he received?” Briggs raised an eyebrow. “I don’t traffic in threats, detective.” Boone left with a gnawing feeling. Briggs was lying, but he couldn’t prove it—yet. By evening, Boone met with forensics. The plank had traces of industrial oil and sea barnacles—likely from a shipping container, not the local docks. It had one clue: a faded serial number burned into the wood’s underside. The team traced it back to a closed Larkridge site on the east pier. Boone drove there under the cover of dusk. The pier was silent, rusted, and half-sunk in tidewater. Inside the main warehouse, dust and old tools littered the floor. And then he saw them—planks identical to the one used in the murder, stacked by a wall. The match was perfect. Someone had brought Hall here. Killed him. Dumped him feet away from the riverbank like a warning. As Boone turned to leave, he heard a sound behind him. Footsteps. He drew his weapon. “Fairview PD. Step out!” A man in coveralls emerged from the shadows—thin, pale, trembling. “Don’t shoot! I—I used to work here.” Boone lowered his gun slightly. “Did you see anything?” The man hesitated. “I was here two nights ago, just sleeping. I—I saw a black SUV pull in. Three men dragged someone out. One hit him with something—it sounded like wood. They were yelling about ‘shutting him up.’ Then they left him there. I was too scared to move.” Boone took a statement, recorded the witness’s ID, and rushed back to headquarters. By morning, surveillance logs from nearby traffic lights confirmed the SUV. It was registered to a shell company—one later traced back to Larkridge’s legal department. Boone confronted Larkridge’s lawyer, Jordan Mayes, in his uptown office. “You’re in deep now,” Boone said, dropping a folder of evidence on his desk. Mayes scoffed, but his hands shook. “You don’t have anything solid.” “I’ve got a witness. Forensics. Footage. And a dead man who trusted the law more than fear. You can take the fall, or give me the men who did this.” Mayes crumbled. Within hours, three Larkridge employees—including a security chief—were arrested. The motive: Hall had refused a $500,000 bribe to withdraw his testimony. So they silenced him the only way they knew. A week later, Boone stood silently at Hall’s memorial service. Hundreds gathered. Children, families, even former enemies. The man had moved a city. In his pocket, Boone still carried a copy of the note that started it all: “Keep pushing, and you’ll fall off the plank.” They’d meant it as a threat. But Hall had walked the plank willingly—for justice. And Boone made sure he didn’t fall in vain.
By Abdurrahman Abdurrahman2 years ago in Criminal
Ashes and Evidence . Content Warning. AI-Generated.
Ashes and Evidence "Some Crimes Don’t Burn Away" The phrase "Ashes and Evidence" is evocative and layered, making it a compelling title for a crime story. It immediately conjures imagery of destruction—specifically, fire—and the remnants that are left behind. Ashes symbolize loss, finality, or an attempt to erase something completely. Fire is often used in crime fiction to hide evidence: arson as a cover-up, a metaphor for rage or chaos, or even as a twisted symbol of rebirth and transformation. Meanwhile, "Evidence" is cold, methodical, and factual. It's what detectives cling to when everything else is chaos. The juxtaposition of these two words—one destructive and chaotic, the other forensic and logical—immediately signals tension, mystery, and a deeper story that’s waiting to be unearthed. This contrast can serve as a thematic foundation for the story: while someone may try to destroy all traces of a crime, truth has a way of surviving. In the ashes, there’s something that doesn’t burn. Something that tells the real story. --- Possible Plot Implications The title opens a wide range of narrative possibilities. For instance: A detective or arson investigator is brought onto a case involving a suspicious fire. At first glance, it looks like an accident—or perhaps an open-and-shut case of revenge. But as the ashes settle, hidden evidence emerges. A burned photo, a half-melted locket, a charred notebook—clues that contradict the official story. A victim's relative, someone who isn’t a detective by profession, could start piecing together evidence the authorities overlooked, discovering a deeper conspiracy behind the fire that killed their loved one. A criminal who thought they had destroyed everything finds themselves being slowly hunted by a quiet, patient investigator who starts rebuilding the crime scene—metaphorically and literally—from the ashes. The story could also explore themes of redemption: a disgraced investigator given one last case. As they work through the ashes—both of the case and their own broken past—they find new purpose in solving what everyone else gave up on. --- Subtitles that Add Meaning: “Where the Fire Ends, the Truth Begins” A subtitle like "Where the Fire Ends, the Truth Begins" deepens the intrigue. It suggests that what seemed like the end—the fire—was actually just the beginning of the story. This subtitle implies a journey: from destruction to discovery, from chaos to clarity. Let’s break it down: “Where the Fire Ends” speaks to a moment of devastation. A literal or metaphorical fire has consumed everything. It might be a house, a warehouse, or someone’s life. It may symbolize a tragic event—a murder, a betrayal, a catastrophic mistake. This is the inciting incident. “The Truth Begins” signals that beneath or beyond that destruction lies the actual narrative drive of the story: uncovering what really happened, who’s responsible, and why. It's a promise to the reader that this won't just be a tragedy—they’ll also get a mystery and a resolution. This subtitle sets a clear tone: the story will move from confusion to clarity, from loss to justice. It also suggests that not everything is lost in the flames. In fact, what remains might be even more telling than what was destroyed. --- Overall Tone and Style Together, the title and subtitle set a tone that is: Dark and suspenseful — fitting for psychological thrillers or noir-inspired crime fiction Emotional — hinting at grief, regret, or trauma Investigative — promising a slow-burn mystery that rewards close attention
By Izaz khan 122 years ago in Criminal
The Fall of Ajmal
In the northeastern reaches of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KPK), Pakistan, nestled among scenic hills that serve as a gateway to the mountainous regions of the province, lies a quiet village. From this serene land emerged a boy named Ajmal, born into a devout and honorable family. His upbringing was rooted in strong religious and moral values, and his parents groomed him with utmost care and affection.
By Zain Ali Khan2 years ago in Criminal
The Last Room. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The Last Room Subtitle: Some doors should never be opened. --- The hallway stretched on longer than it should have. Ahmad felt it the moment he stepped into the corridor—an unnatural stillness, like the air had been holding its breath for years. He was only supposed to inspect the old dormitory building before it was demolished. A favor for his uncle, who ran the property firm handling the clearance. Simple. Quick. In and out.
By AHMAD`S ECHO2 years ago in Criminal
