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Police launch major investigation after grisly discovery on Dickerson Pike
A shocking discovery in Nashville has raised urgent questions for police and the wider community. On Friday morning, August 22, Metro Nashville officers responded to reports of human remains in a wooded patch behind a McDonald’s on Dickerson Pike. What began as one grim finding quickly turned into something even more disturbing: a headless, decomposing body and a skull located roughly 100 feet away.
The initial call came from a woman who spotted what looked like bones in the woods around 10:30 a.m. Police soon confirmed the remains were “severely decomposed” and partially skeletal. When homicide detectives and crime scene investigators combed the area, they located a skull lying closer to the McDonald’s parking lot, separated from the rest of the remains.
“It is unclear at this point who this person is, how this person got there, so those circumstances are under investigation at this time,” said Metro Police spokesperson Brooke Reese during a press briefing.
The discovery has been complicated by both Tennessee’s summer heat and the dense woodland terrain, making it difficult for CSI teams to recover and document evidence.
While violent crime is not unheard of in Nashville, residents say the gruesome nature of this case is unsettling. Local worker Tom Keesee told WSMV:
“It’s pretty gory. That’s crazy. I don’t even know what to say. We live in a big city. I don’t want to say killings are normal, but a headless body—that’s the next level.”
No weapons were recovered at the site, and police stressed that it is not yet clear whether the skull and skeletal remains belong to the same person.
Under Tennessee law, the discovery of unidentified human remains automatically triggers a death investigation. If there is any indication of violence—or if the cause of death cannot be immediately determined—homicide detectives are required to take the lead.
Unidentified Remains: By law, remains must be processed by the state medical examiner’s office, where forensic anthropologists and pathologists attempt to establish identity through DNA, dental records, or other distinguishing features.
Potential Homicide: If foul play is suspected, prosecutors from the Davidson County District Attorney’s Office will be briefed early in the process to determine whether charges could follow.
Chain of Custody: Evidence collection is tightly regulated to preserve the possibility of criminal prosecution. Mishandling skeletal remains could jeopardize any future case.
Family Notification: Once an identity is established, Tennessee’s victim rights laws ensure next of kin are notified before any details are made public.
If the remains are ultimately linked to a homicide, prosecutors could pursue charges ranging from second-degree murder to abuse of a corpse, depending on what forensic evidence reveals about the manner of death and whether the body was intentionally dismembered.
Police say the next steps will involve forensic testing to confirm identity and determine how long the remains had been in the woods. Investigators will also examine whether the body was moved after death, and whether the separation of the skull from the body was caused by environmental factors or human involvement.
Until those questions are answered, authorities are treating the case as suspicious.
Where exactly were the remains found?
The skeletal remains were discovered in a wooded area behind a McDonald’s on Dickerson Pike in Nashville. The skull was located about 100 feet away, near the restaurant’s parking lot.
Do police believe the skull and body belong to the same person?
It has not been confirmed. Forensic testing will determine whether the remains are connected or if more than one individual is involved.
How long had the remains been in the woods?
Authorities have not provided an estimate. Due to the level of decomposition and the recent heat, it could take weeks for forensic teams to narrow down a timeline.
What charges could result if foul play is proven?
In Tennessee, homicide charges range from first-degree murder (if premeditation is shown) to negligent homicide. Prosecutors may also consider charges such as tampering with evidence or abuse of a corpse.
Could the case turn out not to be a crime?
Yes. In some cases, decomposed remains are later determined to belong to individuals who died of natural causes or accidents. However, the separation of the skull and body in this case makes investigators particularly cautious.
Has anything similar happened in Nashville before?
Nashville has seen other cases of unidentified remains in wooded areas, though a headless body is highly unusual. Each case typically requires months of forensic analysis before conclusions are reached.
How can families of missing persons follow updates?
Relatives of missing persons in Tennessee can contact the Metro Nashville Police Department’s Cold Case or Missing Persons units for updates and potential DNA matching opportunities.
Of all the wild conspiracy theories bouncing around the internet, few are as jaw-dropping as the claim that France’s First Lady is secretly a man—yet somehow that rumor has now exploded into an international courtroom drama.
Yes, we are talking about the conspiracy theory—so absurd it makes lizard people look tame—that French First Lady Brigitte Macron is secretly a man. And yes, Candace Owens, never one to miss an opportunity to add gasoline to the dumpster fire, has made it her hill to die on.
The result? The Macrons have now filed a massive defamation lawsuit in Delaware, of all places, against Owens and her companies. What started as internet nonsense has become a very real, very serious legal showdown that raises hard questions about free speech, defamation law, and what happens when you mix conspiracy culture with high-stakes politics.
Let’s unpack how a fringe rumor in France turned into an American lawsuit—and why this could become one of the most bizarre defamation battles in recent memory.
Like many conspiracy theories, this one didn’t come out of nowhere. Emmanuel Macron’s relationship with Brigitte was tabloid fodder long before the internet decided to go full “transvestigation.”
Here are the facts that nobody disputes: Emmanuel was a 15-year-old student when he fell for his drama teacher, Brigitte, who at the time was 39 and married with three kids. The age gap was scandalous enough, especially in Catholic France, and the story has followed them ever since. Years later, she divorced her husband and married Emmanuel, who by then had become one of the most ambitious men in French politics.
But conspiracy theorists love to turn facts into fiction. In the late 2010s, a small group of French far-right activists—most notably Natacha Rey, an essential oils seller who reinvented herself as an “independent journalist”—began promoting the claim that Brigitte wasn’t Brigitte at all. Instead, they alleged, she was secretly her own brother, Jean-Michel, who stole his sister’s identity after some shadowy cover-up.
Rey gave an interview in 2021 with a self-proclaimed “spiritual medium,” and without offering a shred of evidence, they speculated that Brigitte Macron was actually Jean-Michel. Within hours, the clip racked up half a million views on YouTube, fueled hashtags across French social media, and planted the seeds of a conspiracy that would metastasize worldwide.
The Macrons didn’t take it lightly. Brigitte and her brother sued Rey and her co-host in Paris. A trial court found them guilty of defamation, but an appeals court later acquitted them, holding that their wild speculations didn’t technically meet the French legal definition of defamation. The case is still winding through higher appeals. But if the Macrons hoped litigation would end the rumors, they were mistaken.
Candace Owens has never met a conspiracy she couldn’t supercharge. After falling out with Ben Shapiro and the Daily Wire—largely over her repeated flirtations with anti-Semitic tropes—Owens needed a new lane. She found it in the Brigitte Macron “is a man” theory, which she imported wholesale from the French far right into the American culture wars.
Candace Owens, who has amplified conspiracy theories about France’s First Lady, now faces a defamation lawsuit filed by Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron in Delaware.
Owens didn’t just reference the rumor in passing. She built it into the foundation of her podcasting empire. She declared publicly that she would “stake her entire professional reputation” on Brigitte Macron being male. She mocked up “Man of the Year” T-shirts featuring Brigitte’s face. She even ran an eight-part podcast series titled Becoming Brigitte, laying out what she insisted was the “biggest political scandal in human history.”
Her claims got wilder as she went. Not only was Brigitte supposedly her brother Jean-Michel, but Emmanuel Macron was allegedly being groomed from adolescence by globalist elites, possibly under a CIA-style MKUltra mind-control program. Owens linked the Macrons to occult practices, pedophilia rings, and the Rothschild banking family. At one point, she speculated that the couple’s relationship might even be incestuous.
This wasn’t fringe internet muttering anymore. Owens was broadcasting these theories to millions, appearing on other shows, and amplifying her reach across Twitter, YouTube, and Rumble. Joe Rogan himself mused on-air that Owens “might be right,” showing how far the claims had seeped into mainstream discourse.
The Macrons responded by sending multiple retraction letters. These weren’t half-hearted; they included birth records, family photos, a marriage certificate, and the rather undeniable fact that Brigitte had given birth to three children. Owens brushed it all aside and doubled down.
On July 23, 2025, Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron filed a 219-page defamation complaint in Delaware state court as reported in The New York Times (full transcript available). Why Delaware? Two reasons: both of Owens’s companies are incorporated there, giving the court jurisdiction, and Delaware’s two-year statute of limitations allowed the Macrons to sweep in Owens’s older statements along with her more recent podcast rants.
The complaint lays out 22 counts of defamation and false light, focusing on Owens’s eight-part series and related promotional material. It is, essentially, a greatest-hits compilation of MAGA conspiracy talking points dressed up in legal citations.
To understand their chances, let’s look at what the Macrons have to prove.
In Delaware, a defamation claim has four baseline elements:
A defamatory statement;
About the plaintiff;
Published to a third party;
Understood by a reasonable person as defamatory.
Owens’s statements easily clear the first three. She flatly stated as fact that Brigitte is a man, that she stole her sister’s identity, and that she and Emmanuel are part of a pedophilic cult. She named the Macrons directly. She blasted these claims to millions of listeners, not scribbled them in a diary.
The fourth prong—whether a reasonable person would see the statements as defamatory—is almost laughably easy to satisfy. Accusing someone of incest, identity theft, grooming, and membership in a global cabal of satanic pedophiles? Yeah, that qualifies.
But because the Macrons are public figures, they face two extra hurdles. Thanks to the landmark New York Times v. Sullivan (1964), public figures must show:
Falsity: the statements are factually untrue.
Actual malice: the defendant knew they were false, or acted with reckless disregard for the truth.
This is a deliberately high bar, designed to protect free speech as seen in the recent Steven Tyler Lawsuit —even when it’s nasty, inaccurate, or hyperbolic. That’s why most public-figure defamation suits fail.
On falsity, the Macrons are standing on bedrock. They can produce documentary evidence that Brigitte was born female, lived her early life publicly as a girl, and gave birth to three children. They’ve already submitted photos, announcements, and legal documents. Unless Owens has a hidden vault of DNA tests, this prong is a slam dunk.
Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron have filed a defamation lawsuit in Delaware against Candace Owens over false claims spread on her platforms.
The real fight is over actual malice. Did Owens know she was lying, or was she recklessly blind? That’s where the retraction letters become powerful. The Macrons sent her detailed evidence disproving the claims. She ignored it and kept broadcasting. Courts often treat that as evidence of “reckless disregard.”
Owens may argue that she genuinely believed the theory, citing sources like French bloggers or the Daily Mail (which she hilariously misread—the article she cited was debunking the conspiracy, not endorsing it). But belief alone won’t save her if the court decides she had ample reason to know better.
There’s also an interesting question: is Owens “media”? If the court treats her as a journalist or commentator, the burden may fall on the Macrons to prove falsity. If not, Owens may have to prove her claims true—a burden she obviously cannot meet. The Macrons’ complaint directly challenges her self-styled title of “independent journalist,” painting her instead as a grifter peddling misinformation for clicks and merch sales.
If there’s a handbook titled How Not to Handle a Defamation Suit, Owens seems to be following it religiously.
Talking to Tucker Carlson: In a lengthy interview, she announced she had no intention of seeking dismissal, because she wanted discovery against the Macrons. Lawyers everywhere cringed. The first rule of defamation defense is usually “try to get it tossed.”
Publicly mocking the lawsuit: Owens has taunted the Macrons, inviting them to sue and declaring she’ll take it “all the way to the Supreme Court.” That may play well on social media, but it gives the plaintiffs’ attorneys mountains of usable material.
Confusion about civil procedure: At one point she claimed she looked forward to “asking Emmanuel questions in my deposition.” That’s not how depositions work; when you’re the deponent, you answer questions, not the other way around.
Fundraising theatrics: Owens has used the lawsuit to solicit donations, presenting herself as a free-speech martyr. That may help her bank account, but it underscores the Macrons’ claim that she’s motivated by personal gain, not journalism.
Even if the Macrons clear the high hurdles of U.S. defamation law, they face another challenge: the Streisand effect. By suing Owens, they’ve ensured that the “Brigitte is a man” conspiracy will dominate headlines far beyond the far-right corners of Telegram. Owens has already pumped out hours of new content since the suit, gleefully tying the Macrons to Jeffrey Epstein and other conspiratorial bogeymen.
But the Macrons may not have had much choice. Allowing Owens to endlessly repeat the claim without response could normalize it. In an era where conspiracy theories metastasize into “truth” through sheer repetition, public figures sometimes sue not because they expect to win big damages, but to draw a legal line in the sand.
The case will crawl forward in Delaware, with early skirmishes over motions to dismiss, jurisdiction, and discovery. Owens will likely keep talking, because that’s her brand. The Macrons will keep presenting evidence, hoping to prove reckless disregard. The court will have to balance America’s broad free-speech protections against the undeniable reputational harm of being accused of incestuous, occult-worshipping, body-snatching pedophilia.
Win or lose, the lawsuit illustrates how conspiracy culture has become one of America’s most toxic exports. What began as a French tabloid rumor has morphed into an international legal battle, all because U.S. pundits saw an opportunity to monetize outrage.
And if nothing else, it proves one thing: in 2025, reality is often stranger—and stupider—than fiction.
1. What conspiracy theory is Candace Owens being sued over?
Owens repeatedly claimed that Brigitte Macron, the First Lady of France, is secretly a man named Jean-Michel who stole his sister’s identity. She presented it as fact in podcasts, tweets, and merchandise — sparking the Macron family’s defamation lawsuit.
2. Why did the Macrons file their lawsuit in Delaware?
Both of Owens’s businesses are incorporated in Delaware, which gives the state’s courts jurisdiction. Delaware also has a two-year statute of limitations for defamation, allowing the Macrons to sweep in nearly all of Owens’s public statements on the topic.
3. What makes defamation cases involving public figures harder to win?
Under the U.S. Supreme Court’s New York Times v. Sullivan standard, public figures must prove “actual malice” — meaning the defendant knew their statements were false or acted with reckless disregard for the truth. That’s a much steeper hill to climb than in cases involving private citizens.
4. Could Candace Owens actually lose millions over this case?
Yes. If the Macrons convince the court that Owens acted with actual malice, a jury could award substantial damages. Even if she ultimately avoids liability, the cost of defending a multi-year defamation battle could be financially devastating.
Love Island has become a cultural phenomenon. For Gen Z, it’s a summer ritual; for millennials who binged the early UK seasons, today’s versions may feel like pale imitations. But beneath the poolside flirting, dramatic recouplings, and villa bust-ups lies something far more serious: a legal web of contracts, waivers, and restrictions that shape every moment of the show.
Love Island isn’t just about love. It’s about liability. Welcome to Liability Island.
Contestants agree to round-the-clock filming, including in “private” spaces such as bedrooms and bathrooms. Former winner Millie Court said the villa had more than 70 cameras. The contract grants producers absolute discretion to use any footage however they wish. Privacy does not exist in the villa.
Editing rights allow producers to portray contestants in an “unfavorable, embarrassing, or offensive light.” Many former islanders have complained of being misrepresented, but legally, the contract gives production full control of their narrative.
Unlike older reality formats, Love Island limits contestants to two alcoholic drinks per night. The reason is legal: risk management. Other shows have faced lawsuits over alcohol-fueled misconduct. By imposing a limit, ITV can argue it took “reasonable precautions.”
After several high-profile tragedies, ITV introduced strict screening and welfare measures. Contestants must disclose their medical and sexual histories, undergo psychological testing, and commit to therapy sessions post-show. Welfare officers now remain on set 24/7, and islanders are warned the experience will “test you in ways you’ve never faced before.”
The Love Island contract contains a sweeping intellectual property assignment clause. Contestants permanently hand over rights to their name, likeness, voice, and performance — even application materials. Producers can use footage for future promos, spin-offs, or ads indefinitely.
To preserve drama, islanders are cut off completely: no phones, no TV, no social media. Their accounts are managed by ITV staff during filming. The isolation ensures producers control both the villa narrative and contestants’ public image.
Not only do contestants lose access to their accounts, but producers may also repurpose past posts for the show. NDAs prevent islanders from speaking about production without approval, long after they leave the villa. Violations can lead to lawsuits — and producers have pursued them in other franchises.
Beds are communal, and couples are expected to share. Contestants also can’t decide when to go to sleep or wake up. Production dictates schedules, maximizing tension and fatigue to fuel drama.
The contract bans bullying, harassment, racist or homophobic language, and any other behavior deemed “inappropriate.” Complaints must go directly to producers, who hold full discretion over discipline.
The most powerful clause: contestants waive the right to sue. Any disputes must go through private arbitration, which is faster, cheaper, and confidential. Courts have repeatedly upheld such clauses, though critics argue they overwhelmingly favor companies by keeping misconduct out of public view.
Love Island looks like carefree fun, but the reality is a tightly controlled production designed to protect broadcasters, not contestants. Islanders trade away privacy, image rights, and even legal remedies for a shot at fame.
For viewers, it’s entertaining escapism. For lawyers, it’s a fascinating example of how contracts can strip away individual rights while insulating corporations from risk.
The most lasting drama often happens after the cameras stop. From restrictive NDAs to image rights, contestants face long-term consequences from contracts they had little power to negotiate.
And if you ever find yourself in a similar situation — pressured into signing an unfair contract or unsure of your legal options — remember: you need a lawyer. Someone who can navigate the fine print and fight for your rights when others hold all the cards.
Because when life gets complicated, you don’t just need legal advice. You need a lawyer.
Do Love Island contestants really have no privacy?
Correct. Contestants sign contracts agreeing to 24/7 surveillance, including bedrooms and bathrooms. Producers can use any footage at their discretion.
Can producers really edit contestants into villains?
Yes. The contract allows for editing that may portray participants in an “unfavorable” or “embarrassing” light. Legally, contestants have no say in how their storyline is shaped.
Why is there a two-drink limit on Love Island?
The restriction is about liability. Other reality shows have faced lawsuits tied to alcohol-related incidents. Love Island caps drinks to show they took “reasonable precautions.”
What happens to contestants’ social media accounts?
During filming, ITV staff run contestants’ accounts. Past posts can be repurposed, and strict NDAs prevent participants from posting about the show without approval.
Do contestants get paid to appear?
Yes, but modestly compared to the exposure they receive. Many earn more afterward through endorsements, appearances, or influencer deals. However, the legal rights to their image belong to the producers, not the contestants.
Can Love Island contestants sue if they’re mistreated?
No. Contracts require disputes to go through private arbitration. This process is binding, confidential, and generally favors producers, as cases never reach a public courtroom.
What about mental health support for contestants?
Following several tragic deaths, ITV expanded its duty of care. Contestants now undergo psychological screening before joining and are offered therapy sessions and welfare support after leaving the villa.
Is Love Island unique in these rules?
Not at all. Many reality shows include similar clauses, but Love Island’s combination of strict NDAs, IP rights waivers, and isolation from the outside world makes it one of the most controlled productions.
The shocking incident was captured live on the streaming platform Kick on Saturday, Aug. 23.
Quinton “Rampage” Jackson, the former UFC light heavyweight champion and MMA legend, is breaking his silence after his 25-year-old son, Raja Jackson, violently attacked independent pro wrestler Stuart Smith — better known to fans as Syko Stu — during a live wrestling event in Los Angeles.
The incident, which unfolded at Knokx Pro Wrestling on Saturday, Aug. 23, was streamed in real time on the platform Kick and quickly went viral across social media. What was initially believed to be a staged spot turned into a frighteningly real brawl that left Smith hospitalized with “serious injuries.”
Footage shows Raja storming into the ring, hoisting Smith over his shoulders, and slamming him onto the mat with frightening force. What stunned the crowd, however, were the repeated punches Raja delivered to Smith’s head as he lay motionless. Several wrestlers rushed in to restrain Raja, ending the chaotic scene.
According to reporting from Fightful, the confrontation may have started with a scripted plan, but Raja’s follow-up punches were not part of the performance. Wrestling journalist Sean Ross Sapp explained, “The spot with Raja Jackson at Knokx Pro Wrestling was planned. However, Raja knocked the person out — and followed up with heavy punches that were not supposed to happen.”
Smith was rushed to the hospital, where he was later reported to be in stable condition, though the full extent of his injuries remains unclear.
Rampage, 47, issued a lengthy statement on X (formerly Twitter), apologizing to Smith, his family, and the wrestling community.
“Raja was unexpectedly hit in the side of the head by [Smith] moments before the match. He was told he could get his ‘payback’ in the ring, and I thought it was part of the show,” Rampage wrote. “It was bad judgment, and a work that went wrong.”
He continued:
“Raja is an MMA fighter, not a professional wrestler, and had no business being in the ring.”
“I don’t condone my son’s actions AT ALL.”
“As a father, my concern is for both Raja’s health and Mr. Smith’s recovery. I’m relieved that Mr. Smith is awake and stable, and I pray he heals quickly.”
While Rampage has apologized, the fallout may not end with public statements. Legal experts note that Raja could face serious criminal charges and civil liability stemming from the incident.
Possible Criminal Charges – Depending on the severity of Smith’s injuries, prosecutors could pursue charges ranging from assault and battery to aggravated assault, both of which carry jail time in California. Because the attack was broadcast live, video evidence could make it difficult for Raja to claim self-defense.
Civil Lawsuit for Damages – Smith or his family could file a civil lawsuit seeking compensation for medical bills, lost income, and emotional distress. California law allows victims of intentional acts of violence to recover damages in civil court, even if criminal charges are not filed.
Venue and Promotion Liability – Legal scrutiny may also fall on Knokx Pro Wrestling, the venue, and event organizers. If Raja was not officially contracted or properly cleared to participate, the promotion could face claims of negligence or failure to provide adequate safety measures.
Sports attorney Daniel Wallach told Lawyer Monthly in a similar case: “When unsanctioned violence crosses the line from performance to real harm, liability extends beyond the aggressor. Promotions must ensure performers and attendees are protected under duty-of-care principles.”
Pro wrestling is unique because violence is simulated — yet it often straddles the line between entertainment and physical danger. Courts have previously ruled that wrestlers and MMA fighters assume a degree of risk when stepping into the ring, but consent has limits.
If Smith consented only to a scripted stunt, Raja’s unplanned punches could be deemed outside the scope of consent, strengthening both criminal and civil claims.
Past cases, such as the infamous Mass Transit incident in ECW (1996), show how performers and promotions can face lawsuits when a stunt goes wrong.
As of now, no charges have been filed, but police could still investigate after reviewing video footage and medical reports. Smith’s family and Knokx Pro officials have not issued formal statements.
Raja, who has trained as an MMA fighter but has not competed at a major level, now faces both reputational and legal challenges. His father’s swift apology may soften some public backlash, but the legal system could take a different view.
For Rampage, the ordeal is a painful reminder of the blurred line between performance and reality in combat sports. “This was a work gone wrong,” he wrote, but if prosecutors decide otherwise, Raja could soon find himself not just in the ring — but in court.
What happened between Raja Jackson and Syko Stu?
Raja Jackson attacked independent wrestler Syko Stu during a Knokx Pro Wrestling event, slamming him and striking him repeatedly in the head. The incident left Stu hospitalized with serious injuries.
Could Raja Jackson face assault charges?
Yes. Legal experts say the attack could qualify as assault and battery under California law. If Smith suffered long-term harm, aggravated assault charges are possible.
Can wrestling promotions be sued when wrestlers get hurt?
Yes. While performers assume risk, if a promoter allows untrained participants in the ring or fails to maintain safety protocols, they can face negligence lawsuits.
What did Quinton “Rampage” Jackson say about the incident?
Rampage issued a public apology, stating he does not condone his son’s actions and emphasizing concern for both Smith’s recovery and his son’s well-being.
For more coverage on crime and the law, read our deep dive [The Human Side of a Monster: The Madness of David Berkowitz] and our latest update [Bryan Kohberger Files Sexual Harassment Complaint in Idaho Prison and Requests Transfer].
Updated: 20 November 2025
The legal and political fallout surrounding Jeffrey Epstein’s legacy has entered one of its most consequential phases yet: Congress has now subpoenaed Bill and Hillary Clinton as part of a sweeping bipartisan investigation into Epstein’s network of influence and the government agencies that interacted with him. With Bill Clinton formally ordered to testify on 14 October 2025, the move has already triggered a constitutional flashpoint rarely tested in modern history — can a former U.S. president legally refuse a congressional subpoena?
The subpoenas were issued on July 23 by House Oversight Committee Chairman James Comer (R-Ky.), following a bipartisan vote of the Federal Law Enforcement Subcommittee. Lawmakers also approved compulsory testimony for eight former Attorneys General and FBI Directors, alongside a demand for extensive Department of Justice records connected to Epstein’s criminal activities, his associates, and the government’s handling of his cases across multiple administrations.
According to the Oversight Committee’s official release, Congress has set a series of 2025 deadlines for document production and sworn depositions. As of now, the schedule is as follows:
DOJ Records: August 19, 2025
William Barr (Former Attorney General): August 18, 2025
Alberto Gonzales (Former Attorney General): August 26, 2025
Jeff Sessions (Former Attorney General): August 28, 2025
Robert Mueller (Former FBI Director): September 2, 2025
Loretta Lynch (Former Attorney General): September 9, 2025
Eric Holder (Former Attorney General): September 30, 2025
Merrick Garland (Attorney General): October 2, 2025
James Comey (Former FBI Director): October 7, 2025
Hillary Clinton (Former Secretary of State): October 9, 2025
Bill Clinton (Former President): October 14, 2025
A spokesperson for the Committee has indicated that these dates reflect the current timetable but could shift depending on compliance, negotiations over privilege, or additional document disclosures. Still, as of late July 2025, this is the operative schedule guiding the inquiry.
This timetable guarantees the investigation will stretch into the autumn, with the Clintons positioned as the final — and most politically explosive — witnesses.
In a striking departure from the usual partisan gridlock, the Oversight Committee emphasized that the decision to issue subpoenas was genuinely bipartisan. The initial motion — introduced by Rep. Scott Perry (R-Pa.) — sought compulsory testimony from the Clintons and several former Justice Department officials. It passed on a voice vote, indicating no significant opposition within the subcommittee.
Democrats also played a direct role in shaping the inquiry. Rep. Summer Lee (D-Pa.) introduced an amendment requiring the Department of Justice to produce all relevant Epstein-related records. That amendment was adopted by an 8–2 vote, giving the investigation a rare cross-party mandate.
Subsequent amendments broadened the scope even further. Lawmakers voted to compel disclosure of communications between the Biden administration and the Justice Department relating to Epstein, while also directing that victims’ identities and sensitive information be redacted to protect privacy.
This unusual alignment between Republicans and Democrats underscores just how politically volatile the Epstein scandal remains. Few issues cut across party lines in Washington, but the demand for transparency in this case is proving to be one of them.
Bill Clinton’s past association with Jeffrey Epstein has been scrutinized for more than a decade, and the new congressional subpoenas have pushed that relationship back to the center of national debate. Flight logs released during civil litigation show that Clinton traveled on Epstein’s private jet for several humanitarian trips in 2002 and 2003, accompanied by staff, Secret Service, and occasionally Ghislaine Maxwell. In total, the logs list 26 flight legs, many of which were part of the same multi-country missions. Clinton’s team has long maintained that he “knew nothing” of Epstein’s crimes and severed ties in 2005, before Epstein faced prosecution in Florida.
ABC News’ November 2025 investigation underscores how politically charged the topic has become. Former President Donald Trump has repeatedly urged the Justice Department to investigate Clinton’s past interactions with Epstein, renewing claims that have circulated since 2015. At the same time, ABC highlights that:
No Epstein survivor or associate has ever publicly accused Bill Clinton of criminal wrongdoing,
Flight records do not place Clinton on Epstein’s island,
And both Epstein and Maxwell repeatedly denied that Clinton ever visited Little St. James.
Virginia Giuffre once told the Mail on Sunday that she had met Clinton on the island, but later clarified in a 2016 deposition that key details had been misquoted and that she had not personally witnessed Maxwell transporting Clinton by helicopter. Maxwell herself testified that she had never flown Clinton and insisted he never visited the island.
Still, congressional investigators say that proximity alone — even if limited to documented philanthropic trips — raises legitimate oversight questions. The committee wants to examine whether Epstein leveraged perceived access to Clinton and other high-profile figures to influence federal prosecutors, foreign policy contacts, or political networks.
That official rationale is reflected directly in Chairman James Comer’s subpoena letters:
To Bill Clinton, Comer wrote that the former president “may have information regarding [Epstein and Maxwell’s] activities.”
To Hillary Clinton, he argued that the former Secretary of State may have knowledge relevant to “efforts by the federal government to combat international sex trafficking” during her tenure.
In short, the Clintons have not been accused of criminal conduct in connection with Epstein — but Congress wants them under oath because their historical proximity to Epstein intersects with one of the most politically explosive transparency fights in Washington.
The subpoenas also revive long-standing curiosity about the Clintons’ financial empire. Since departing the White House in 2001, Bill and Hillary Clinton have built one of the most lucrative post-presidential careers in modern history — earning tens of millions through bestselling memoirs, high-profile speaking engagements, consulting work, and global philanthropic initiatives. Their combined net worth is widely estimated to be in the tens of millions, placing them among the wealthiest political couples in the country.
For critics, that level of wealth and international influence makes full transparency around their past interactions with Epstein not just relevant but essential. They argue that high-ranking officials with global reach should face heightened scrutiny when their names appear in proximity to a notorious criminal network.
Supporters counter that the renewed spotlight is driven less by investigative necessity and more by political opportunism, especially in an election cycle already shaped by partisan tensions and competing demands for accountability.
👉 For a detailed breakdown of their earnings, assets, and financial legacy, see the full report on the Bill and Hillary Clinton Net Worth 2025.
A subpoena is a legally enforceable order requiring an individual to give testimony or produce documents as part of a judicial or congressional investigation. Unlike a voluntary interview request, a subpoena carries the full weight of law — and refusing to comply can trigger a range of consequences.
If a witness ignores or rejects a congressional subpoena, Congress can respond with:
Contempt of Congress, a formal referral that can lead to civil or criminal enforcement.
Fines, imposed through the courts.
Detention, in extremely rare cases.
Legal negotiations or litigation, which is the most common outcome for high-profile political figures.
In practice, Congress often ends up in prolonged legal battles rather than immediate punitive action, especially when former presidents or cabinet officials raise arguments involving executive privilege, separation of powers, or constitutional protections.
There are two primary categories of subpoenas:
Ad testificandum — orders a person to provide testimony.
Duces tecum — requires the production of documents, emails, or other records.
In this investigation, the Clintons and other former officials were served with subpoenas ad testificandum, compelling them to sit for sworn depositions before the House Oversight Committee.
In strict legal terms, former presidents are private citizens. They do not possess blanket immunity from congressional subpoenas. However, they can — and often do — attempt to delay, narrow, or block testimony by invoking executive privilege, separation-of-powers concerns, or claims of political motivation. Whether those arguments succeed ultimately depends on the courts.
History shows that while resistance is common, outright refusal is rare:
Thomas Jefferson (1807): Subpoenaed in the Aaron Burr treason trial, he produced documents but declined to appear in person. Chief Justice John Marshall allowed partial compliance.
Richard Nixon (1974): Fought the subpoena for the Watergate tapes. The Supreme Court unanimously ruled against him, establishing that no president is above the law.
Bill Clinton (1998): Subpoenaed in the Lewinsky investigation but negotiated with prosecutors and ultimately testified voluntarily via video.
Donald Trump (2022): Sued to block the January 6 Committee subpoena. The committee disbanded before courts ruled, effectively ending the matter.
The pattern is clear: former presidents can be compelled to cooperate, but it almost always spirals into a complex showdown involving political pressure, constitutional arguments, and judicial intervention. Compliance is rarely straightforward — and never fast.
In a major escalation of the political and legal pressure surrounding the case, US President Donald Trump announced on Wednesday, 19 November 2025, that he had signed a bill ordering the Department of Justice to release all federal files related to Jeffrey Epstein within 30 days. The decision marks a sharp reversal: Trump previously opposed releasing the materials but shifted course after mounting pressure from Epstein survivors and members of his own party.
The legislation, which passed the House in a 427–1 vote and cleared the Senate by unanimous consent, requires the Justice Department to publish the Epstein files in a searchable, downloadable format. The materials covered include:
Documents from federal criminal investigations
Transcripts of interviews with victims and witnesses
Evidence seized during raids of Epstein’s properties
Internal Justice Department communications
Flight logs
Names of individuals and entities connected to Epstein
Attorney General Pam Bondi must release all unclassified records within the 30-day window. However, the law allows the DOJ to withhold information that:
Would violate personal privacy
Would identify victims
Would jeopardise any active federal investigation
One of the bill’s architects, Rep. Thomas Massie, warned that invoking ongoing investigations could become a loophole for withholding files, saying he feared the administration might “use those investigations as a predicate for not releasing the files.”
The newly mandated release is separate from the more than 20,000 pages of documents from Epstein’s estate that Congress published last week. Those files included 2018 messages from Epstein referencing Trump himself, such as: “I know how dirty donald is” and “I am the one able to take him down.”
Trump, who has long denied any wrongdoing, told reporters Monday that Republicans had “nothing to do with Epstein,” calling it “a Democrat problem.”
The family of Virginia Giuffre, who died earlier this year, praised Trump’s decision as “nothing short of monumental,” emphasising that “every name must be revealed, regardless of power, wealth, or party affiliation.”
The move has already prompted fallout: former Harvard president Larry Summers has taken a leave from teaching while the university investigates emails showing friendly exchanges with Epstein.
What happens if Bill Clinton refuses to appear?
Congress could hold him in contempt, pursue enforcement in federal court, or negotiate narrower testimony. With his scheduled deposition date now under discussion, a delay would be more likely than an outright refusal. Historically, these disputes can drag on for months.
Has a former president ever been forced to testify before Congress?
It has happened, but rarely. Thomas Jefferson, Richard Nixon, Bill Clinton (in 1998), and Donald Trump all faced subpoenas or compelled testimony. In each case, the dispute ended in negotiated or limited cooperation rather than a dramatic showdown.
Can executive privilege shield Clinton from answering?
Possibly — but only in a narrow way. Executive privilege can cover communications made while Clinton was president, but courts have consistently held that a former president’s privilege claims carry less weight. The Supreme Court’s Nixon ruling still guides these disputes.
What is the likely outcome?
Legal analysts expect some form of negotiated compliance — likely closed-door testimony, restricted topics, or written answers. A full public clash between Clinton and Congress is still considered unlikely but not impossible, especially now that federal Epstein files must be released within 30 days.
What’s the difference between a subpoena and a summons?
A subpoena compels testimony or documents in an investigation.
A summons notifies someone they are being sued or charged and requires a court appearance.
Can you go to jail for ignoring a congressional subpoena?
Technically, yes — contempt of Congress can carry penalties including fines or imprisonment. In modern practice, enforcement usually moves through the courts rather than direct detention.
How quickly must you respond to a subpoena?
Deadlines vary. The Oversight Committee set specific 2025 dates for each witness, initially ranging from August through October, though several of these dates are now in flux due to ongoing legal negotiations.
Do you need a lawyer if you’re subpoenaed?
Almost always. A lawyer can negotiate, narrow the scope of questioning, or raise privilege claims. High-profile figures like the Clintons always appear with counsel present.
By the summer of 1977, New York was suffocating — not just from the heat, but from the dread of a killer who struck without warning.
A serial gunman was prowling the boroughs, striking without warning, leaving couples dead or maimed in parked cars and on sidewalks. He called himself “Son of Sam.” Newspapers fed the panic with every headline, and the NYPD waged one of the largest manhunts in the city’s history.
Behind the chilling moniker “Son of Sam” stood David Berkowitz, a quiet postal worker whose hidden rage would plunge New York into terror. a 24-year-old postal worker from Yonkers.
His yearlong spree would claim six lives and wound seven more, but the story that emerged after his arrest was not just about bloodshed. It was about madness, loneliness, and the blurred line between mental illness and evil.
Police sketch released after the July 31, 1977 Son of Sam shooting — one of several composite drawings that kept New York City on edge before David Berkowitz’s capture.
Berkowitz was born Richard David Falco in 1953, the child of an affair. His biological mother gave him up shortly after birth, and he was adopted by Nathan and Pearl Berkowitz, a working-class couple in the Bronx. Though they loved him, David grew up with a gnawing sense of abandonment.
He was told early on that his real mother had died, a lie that festered into resentment when he later discovered the truth. Teachers noted his intelligence, but also his volatility — angry outbursts, bullying tendencies, and a fixation on setting small fires. By adolescence, he was already showing what criminologists call the “fire-setting triad,” one of the red flags often found in the backgrounds of violent offenders.
When his adoptive mother died of cancer while he was still a teenager, the fragile support system holding him together collapsed.
Berkowitz enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1971 with one clear goal: to see combat. Friends later recalled that he believed fighting would give him an outlet for his anger — even a chance to “vent” his frustrations through killing.
But instead of the battlefield, he was stationed in South Korea near the Demilitarized Zone. The anticlimax fueled his resentment, and in the long stretches of boredom and isolation, he turned to drugs, including marijuana and LSD. What the Army had given him in structure, it quickly stripped away in disillusionment. By the time he was honorably discharged in 1974, Berkowitz was just 21 — rootless, bitter, and utterly alone.
By this point, he was struggling with feelings of invisibility. He bounced through menial jobs, lived in a rundown Yonkers apartment, and filled his nights with compulsive arson — over a thousand fires by his later admission. The flames gave him control, a twisted outlet for rage he couldn’t articulate.
Then came the gun. In 1976, he purchased a .44 caliber Charter Arms revolver. Within weeks, the Son of Sam shootings began.
His first known attack came in July 1976 in the Bronx, when he shot two young women sitting in a car. Over the next year, the pattern repeated: couples parked late at night, lone women returning home, random victims cut down without warning.
The randomness was part of the terror. New Yorkers saw themselves in the victims. Anyone could be next.
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Police officers and detectives at a Bronx crime scene tied to the Son of Sam shootings in 1977. The nighttime attacks left New Yorkers terrified until David Berkowitz’s arrest weeks later.
Berkowitz taunted police and media with rambling letters signed “Son of Sam,” filled with biblical references, dark humor, and threats of continued slaughter. He craved not just blood, but recognition. The city, he believed, finally had to look at him.
After months of failed leads and dead ends, Berkowitz’s downfall came from something remarkably mundane. On the night of his last shooting in Brooklyn, a woman walking her dog noticed a car parked illegally near a fire hydrant. She remembered it because she nearly tripped over her leash trying to avoid the hydrant. That car belonged to David Berkowitz.
When detectives cross-checked parking summonses issued near the scene, his name surfaced. A quick look at his record showed prior summonses and complaints. It was enough for suspicion.
Armed with a warrant, police searched his car and discovered maps of the crime scenes, ammunition, and the .44 revolver used in the murders. The case cracked not from sophisticated profiling, but from a parking ticket.
Criminologists still speculate whether Berkowitz, who had successfully eluded capture for a year, was subconsciously sabotaging himself. Was he tired of killing? Did he want to be caught before he escalated further?
Behind every headline and police bulletin were real people whose lives were shattered by Berkowitz’s attacks. His victims were young, often couples, and mostly targeted while sitting in cars late at night. Their names and stories remind us that the “Son of Sam” case was never just about a killer — it was about stolen futures.
Donna Lauria, 18, and Jody Valenti, 19 – On July 29, 1976, Berkowitz struck for the first time in the Bronx. Donna was killed instantly as she sat in a car outside her home, talking with her best friend Jody, who was wounded but survived.
Carl Denaro, 20, and Rosemary Keenan, 18 – That October in Queens, Berkowitz fired into a parked car. Carl was shot in the head but lived; Rosemary escaped serious injury. At the time, doctors thought Carl’s wounds came from a bat — the idea that a serial gunman was loose hadn’t yet taken hold.
Donna DeMasi, 16, and Joanne Lomino, 18 – In November, the two friends were chatting on a porch in Queens when Berkowitz approached. Both were shot; Donna survived her injuries, but Joanne was left paralyzed.
Christine Freund, 26, and John Diel, 30 – In January 1977, Berkowitz fired through the passenger window of their car in Queens. Christine was fatally struck, while John managed to drive them to safety.
Virginia Voskerichian, 19 – Only weeks later, Virginia, a Columbia student, was walking home from class in Queens when she was shot in the head with the same .44 revolver.
Alexander Esau, 20, and Valentina Suriani, 18 – In April, Berkowitz returned to the Bronx. Valentina died instantly, while Alexander succumbed to his wounds hours later.
Sal Lupo, 20, and Judy Placido, 17 – In June, after leaving a nightclub in Queens, the pair were shot while sitting in their car. Both survived, but the attack deepened the city’s panic.
Stacy Moskowitz, 20, and Robert Violante, 20 – The final attack came in Brooklyn in July 1977. Stacy was killed, Robert was blinded in one eye, and police pressure finally began to close in.
Eight young people killed, seven others wounded, and an entire city left paralyzed with fear. Berkowitz himself would later claim he was driven by a demonic voice — but the names above remind us of the true legacy of his crimes.
On August 10, 1977, police surrounded Berkowitz outside his Yonkers apartment. He greeted them calmly, reportedly smiling as he said: “Well, you got me.”
Inside his car were letters addressed to law enforcement, more weapons, and incriminating notes. The trial that followed was marked by spectacle: his smirking courtroom outbursts, his insistence on demonic influences, and the surreal blending of horror and theater.
Convicted on multiple counts of murder, Berkowitz was sentenced to life in prison.
David Berkowitz, dubbed the 'Son of Sam,' being arrested in Yonkers on August 10, 1977. Detectives had traced him through a parking ticket, ending a year-long reign of terror in New York City
The debate over whether Berkowitz was insane or simply evil echoes in other infamous cases. The Menendez brothers, for example, argued that years of parental abuse drove them to murder, while prosecutors painted them as cold-blooded killers seeking an inheritance.
More recently, Brian Kohberger — accused in the Idaho college murders — has raised similar questions about psychological compulsion versus calculated violence. These comparisons show how society still struggles with the same central dilemma: are such killers driven by mental illness, or by something darker?
On one hand, the early narratives made him sound like a lunatic in the grip of psychosis. The idea of a dog giving commands from the neighbor’s yard captured headlines precisely because it sounded absurd and terrifying — the embodiment of madness in the suburbs. When detectives entered his Yonkers apartment, they found a chaotic mess: scrawled notes, satanic graffiti, and journals filled with strange ramblings. To many, this was the unmistakable imprint of mental illness.
Inside David Berkowitz’s Yonkers apartment, where investigators discovered handwritten letters, weapons, and evidence tying him to the Son of Sam shootings.
Yet the deeper investigators dug, the harder it was to sustain that narrative. Berkowitz was meticulous in some respects. He cleaned shell casings, he switched boroughs to avoid predictable patterns, and he went to great lengths to disguise his movements. His letters to the police and press were riddled with twisted humor and literary references. Far from incoherent, they suggested someone who knew exactly how to stoke fear — and who relished it.
Criminal psychologist Dr. Harvey Schlossberg, one of the NYPD’s own experts at the time, made a blunt assessment: “The Son of Sam was not insane in the medical sense. He was manipulative. He created the dog story because it made him sound untouchable, even mythic.”
Other psychiatrists, such as Dr. David Abrahamsen, echoed that conclusion after extensive prison interviews. Berkowitz, he argued, wasn’t lost in hallucinations. He was driven by rage, resentment, and a need for recognition. “He knew right from wrong. He also knew what fear meant in a city already on edge — and he played into that with every note he sent,” Abrahamsen wrote.
Still, some mental health experts believe that dismissing his claims outright oversimplifies the picture. They point to his history of arson, compulsive behavior, and reports of hearing voices during lonely nights in Yonkers. Was the “dog” a literal hallucination, or a metaphorical way of externalizing urges he couldn’t face as his own?
Dr. Katherine Ramsland, a forensic psychologist who has studied serial killers extensively, once noted: “Many offenders split themselves psychologically. They attribute their darkest compulsions to something outside themselves — a demon, a voice, a higher power — because admitting it’s truly them is unbearable.”
The legal system, of course, doesn’t allow for metaphors. Under the M’Naghten Rule, Berkowitz was competent: he could tell right from wrong. That was enough for the jury and for the judge. But the question lingers in criminology classrooms and true crime forums alike: was he sick, or simply evil?
To understand Berkowitz’s violence, one has to step inside his loneliness.
He was not the handsome, confident predator depicted in crime dramas. He was awkward, overweight, socially alienated, and pathologically envious of intimacy. Most of his targets were couples — people who represented everything he lacked and resented. For him, killing was less about sexual gratification than about punishing the world for excluding him.
In his later writings, Berkowitz admitted the “talking dog” story was a fabrication. He confessed he wanted to appear larger-than-life, to frighten a city already trembling. The myth was a performance. But behind that performance was a more chilling truth: he was ordinary, invisible, forgettable. The killings gave him an identity.
Criminal psychologist Dr. Stanton Samenow, author of Inside the Criminal Mind, explains this mindset: “People like Berkowitz create a sense of power by destroying what they cannot have. They feed on the fear they inspire. For them, the act of terrorizing becomes more intoxicating than the act of killing itself.”
Berkowitz himself seemed to confirm this. In one prison interview, he admitted: “I didn’t want to hurt them personally. They never did anything to me. I just wanted to kill. I wanted to kill them all.” The absence of personal animosity reveals a chilling truth: his rage was diffuse, not targeted. The victims were symbols — of rejection, of happiness, of everything he believed life had denied him.
The Son of Sam case dominated 1970s New York headlines, sparking fear, shaping police investigations, and leaving a lasting mark on American true crime culture
The compulsion was not limitless, however. By the summer of 1977, he had grown sloppy. Parking illegally by a fire hydrant, leaving maps and weapons in his car — these were not the choices of a man determined to evade capture forever. Many experts argue that Berkowitz’s subconscious wanted to be caught, that the thrill of the hunt had run its course.
The idea that serial killers secretly crave their own downfall has long fascinated psychologists. Dr. Harvey Schlossberg once remarked: “They want to be stopped. Somewhere, deep down, they are testing the world to see if anyone will notice, if anyone will care enough to end it.”
Today, looking back from prison, Berkowitz has acknowledged this paradox. He describes his arrest not with anger, but with relief. His flat statement — “Well, you got me” — said as officers surrounded his car, may have been the most honest words he ever spoke.
Since 1978, Berkowitz has lived behind bars, moving between maximum security facilities in New York State. He is now in his early 70s, serving out six consecutive life sentences at Shawangunk Correctional Facility.
In prison, he has reinvented himself as a born-again Christian, even adopting the moniker “Son of Hope.” He writes letters to ministers, records testimony videos, and insists he has been redeemed. The transformation is common among serial offenders; prison chaplains often remark that faith provides structure, forgiveness, and a narrative of rebirth that appeals to men who once thrived on destruction.
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David Berkowitz, known as the ‘Son of Sam,’ seen in a 1970s photo (left) compared with his appearance decades later in prison (right).
Still, victims’ families have dismissed his religious awakening as a performance, just another mask over the same manipulative personality. His repeated parole bids have been denied, each time reminding him that redemption in the spiritual sense does not erase earthly consequences.
The Berkowitz case left more than bodies in its wake. His trial spurred the creation of the “Son of Sam” laws, designed to prevent criminals from profiting off book or movie deals about their crimes. It also reshaped how media covers serial killers, showing the dangers of turning them into celebrities.
For New Yorkers, the memory lingers of a time when simply parking your car or walking home at night felt like a gamble with fate. The panic of 1977 was not just about bullets — it was about the terrifying idea that evil could hide in the quietest corners of ordinary life.
For a deeper dive into Berkowitz’s crimes and the panic they caused, Netflix’s documentary trailer captures the atmosphere of 1970s New York. 'Conversations with a Killer: The Son of Sam Tapes'.
Though separated by time and motive, David Berkowitz and Mark David Chapman, who murdered John Lennon in 1980, share striking psychological parallels. Both were alienated men who craved notoriety and constructed warped inner narratives to justify violence.
As Dr. Katherine Ramsland notes, “They externalize blame onto forces beyond themselves — whether a neighbor’s dog, as in Berkowitz’s case, or a fixation with a celebrity, as in Chapman’s.”
Both men also staged their attacks in public, symbolic settings — Berkowitz in lovers’ lanes that embodied youthful freedom, Chapman outside Lennon’s Dakota apartment, the heart of New York’s creative counterculture.
The comparison underscores how some killers see violence as a means to etch themselves into history, even if only through infamy.
David Berkowitz’s story is more than the tale of a killer. It is a meditation on loneliness, rage, and the human need for identity. Whether mad or bad, ill or evil, he embodied the nightmare that ordinary people can commit extraordinary violence.
And in the end, it was not a heroic chase or a brilliant profiler who stopped him. It was a parking ticket, noticed by a woman walking her dog. Perhaps that is the most haunting truth: monsters are often caught not by their darkness, but by their carelessness.
Who is David Berkowitz?
David Berkowitz, also known as the “Son of Sam,” is an American serial killer who terrorized New York City between 1976 and 1977. He killed six people and wounded seven others in a string of late-night shootings.
How was David Berkowitz caught?
He was caught because of a simple parking ticket. A woman walking her dog noticed his car parked illegally near a fire hydrant at the scene of his final shooting. Detectives traced the summons, searched his car, and found a .44 caliber revolver — the murder weapon.
Why did Berkowitz say he killed people?
At first, Berkowitz claimed that his neighbor’s dog was possessed by a demon and ordered him to kill. Later, he admitted this was partly a hoax to support an insanity defense. Psychologists believe deeper motives included resentment, misogyny, and feelings of abandonment.
Was David Berkowitz insane?
Though he displayed bizarre behavior — including claims of hearing voices from a dog — court psychiatrists found him competent to stand trial. Experts remain divided over whether he was mentally ill or simply manipulative and dangerous.
Where is David Berkowitz now?
As of 2025, Berkowitz is 71 years old and serving six consecutive life sentences at Shawangunk Correctional Facility in New York. He has repeatedly been denied parole.
Why did David Berkowitz stop killing?
His arrest ended the spree. Some criminologists suggest that his sloppy mistake with the parking ticket hints he may have subconsciously wanted to be caught.
Did Berkowitz really find God in prison?
Yes. In the late 1980s, Berkowitz became a born-again Christian and now calls himself the “Son of Hope.” He claims his faith brought him peace and redemption, though critics see it as another form of self-mythologizing.
What laws came from the Son of Sam case?
In response to fears that Berkowitz could profit from book or movie deals, New York passed the “Son of Sam law,” which prevents criminals from cashing in on their crimes.
What other killers is Berkowitz compared to?
His case often draws comparisons to the Menendez brothers, who blamed abuse for their crimes, and to Brian Kohberger, the accused in the Idaho student murders — all raising the same question: mad or bad?
If the story of David Berkowitz left you wanting to explore more criminal minds and courtroom battles, check out our other in-depth true crime investigations:
The Idaho College Murders: Inside the Case Against Brian Kohberger – A chilling look at how digital forensics, DNA, and surveillance unraveled one of America’s most haunting campus crimes.
Josh Duggar: From Reality TV to Federal Prison – The disturbing downfall of the 19 Kids and Counting star and the legal case that exposed years of abuse.
The Alcatraz Escape Mystery: Did They Survive?– Reexamining the evidence behind the infamous 1962 prison break that still captivates investigators.
Lori Vallow and the Doomsday Cult Killings – How apocalyptic beliefs spiraled into tragedy, ending with a high-profile trial and life sentences.
The Murder of Sarah Green Patrick: A Case that Shook the UK– A forensic deep dive into a case of betrayal, violence, and the legal fallout that followed.
Bryan Kohberger, sentenced to four life terms for the 2022 University of Idaho murders, has filed a formal sexual harassment complaint while incarcerated at the Idaho Maximum Security Institution (IMSI). According to prison records, Kohberger claims he has been subjected to repeated verbal threats from other inmates and has asked officials for a transfer.
On July 30, 2025, one day after entering J-Block at IMSI, Kohberger submitted a handwritten request asking to be moved to a different unit. In his note, he described being exposed to “minute-by-minute verbal threats/harassment” and referenced recent inmate disturbances such as cell flooding.
Kohberger requested reassignment to B-Block, another restrictive housing tier. Prison officials denied the request, stating flooding was “relatively rare” in J-Block and advising Kohberger to “give it some time.”
On August 4, 2025, Kohberger filed a “concern note” alleging sexual harassment. He claimed inmates directed explicit threats toward him, including:
“I’ll b--- f--- you.”
“The only a-- we’ll be eating is Kohberger’s.”
A correctional officer’s incident report confirmed vulgar language had been used but noted the source could not be identified. A second officer later corroborated that offensive remarks were made, though without attribution to a specific inmate.
Prison officials ultimately concluded: “Kohberger feels safe to remain on tier 2 in J-Block.”
Under the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) of 2003, correctional facilities are required to provide inmates with a means to confidentially report sexual abuse and harassment. PREA standards define sexual harassment as “repeated and unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, or verbal comments, gestures, or actions of a derogatory or offensive sexual nature by one inmate directed toward another.”
While verbal threats alone may not always result in relocation, PREA mandates that facilities investigate all complaints and take reasonable measures to ensure inmate safety. Transfers are typically approved only when there is an identifiable, ongoing risk of harm.
The Idaho Department of Correction (IDOC) maintains a multi-step grievance process that allows inmates to file written complaints regarding conditions of confinement, staff conduct, or safety concerns. According to IDOC policy:
Concern Form – The inmate must first submit a written concern (as Kohberger did on Aug. 4).
Grievance Form – If unresolved, the inmate may escalate the issue by filing a formal grievance.
Administrative Review – Appeals may be made to higher-level administrators if the inmate disputes the response.
Correctional officials have discretion to relocate inmates within IMSI if credible threats are substantiated. In Kohberger’s case, officials determined that his housing arrangement remained adequate.
J-Block houses up to 128 inmates, including general population, protective custody, and death row prisoners. Inmates in restrictive housing, such as Kohberger, live in single-person cells, are escorted in restraints, receive one hour of outdoor recreation daily, and may shower every other day.
These conditions differ from those at the county jail where Kohberger awaited trial, where he reportedly had access to longer daily showers and less restrictive confinement.
In July 2025, Kohberger was sentenced to four consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole after confessing to the November 13, 2022 stabbings of University of Idaho students Kaylee Goncalves (21), Madison Mogen (21), Xana Kernodle (20), and Ethan Chapin (20) at their Moscow, Idaho residence.
The case drew nationwide attention and raised questions about criminal profiling, forensic evidence, and pretrial publicity.
The Idaho Department of Correction has not issued a public statement regarding Kohberger’s complaints. As of mid-August 2025, he remains housed in J-Block under restrictive custody.
While Kohberger’s complaints invoke PREA protections, officials have wide discretion in evaluating credibility and managing inmate housing. At present, IDOC has determined that his confinement in J-Block meets both security and safety requirements.
Why did Bryan Kohberger file a sexual harassment complaint in prison?
He alleged that inmates in J-Block directed sexually explicit threats toward him, which he reported to prison staff in early August 2025.
What is J-Block at the Idaho Maximum Security Institution?
J-Block houses up to 128 inmates, including those in protective custody, general population, and death row, with restrictive housing conditions.
What protections do inmates have against sexual harassment?
Under the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA), inmates can file confidential complaints, which must be investigated, though not all result in transfers.
Did prison officials approve Kohberger’s transfer request?
No. Officials determined his housing in J-Block remained secure and denied his request for relocation.
What sentence is Bryan Kohberger serving?
He is serving four consecutive life terms without parole for the November 2022 murders of four University of Idaho students.
Sexual harassment in the workplace is not only harmful—it’s illegal. In California, employees are protected under both federal law (Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964) and state law (California Fair Employment and Housing Act, FEHA, Gov. Code §12940).
These laws make it clear: every worker has the right to a safe, respectful workplace free from intimidation, unwanted advances, and hostile behavior.
Under California’s FEHA, sexual harassment includes:
Unwelcome sexual advances or requests for sexual favors.
Verbal, visual, or physical conduct of a sexual nature.
Hostile work environment behavior based on sex, gender identity, sexual orientation, or pregnancy.
👉 The conduct does not need to be motivated by sexual attraction. Gender-based hostility, offensive jokes, or harassment based on perceived gender or orientation may qualify.
📌 Case Example: In Miller v. Department of Corrections (2005), the California Supreme Court held that harassment becomes unlawful when it is so severe or pervasive that it alters the conditions of employment and creates a hostile work environment.
When job benefits are conditioned on accepting sexual advances. Examples:
A manager offering a raise in exchange for sexual favors.
Threatening termination or poor performance reviews for refusing advances.
When conduct is severe or pervasive enough to interfere with an employee’s ability to do their job. Examples:
Persistent sexual jokes, comments, or insults.
Displaying sexually explicit images or posters in the workplace.
Repeated unwanted touching, brushing, or staring.
Derogatory remarks about pregnancy, gender identity, or sexual orientation.
If you experience harassment, here are practical steps you can take:
Document everything — Write down each incident with dates, times, locations, witnesses, and details. Save texts, emails, or messages.
Review your company’s policy — Most California employers must have a written anti-harassment policy.
File an internal complaint — Report harassment through HR, a complaint hotline, or another designated channel (not just your direct supervisor).
Contact enforcement agencies:
California Civil Rights Department (CRD): calcivilrights.ca.gov/complaintprocess
Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC): eeoc.gov
(Complaints filed with one agency are automatically cross-filed with the other.)
Be aware of time limits — In California, most employees must file a harassment complaint with the CRD within three years of the incident (Gov. Code §12960).
Seek legal advice — An employment attorney can guide you through filing claims and pursuing damages.
If harassment is proven, victims may be entitled to:
Compensation for emotional distress.
Back pay or lost wages.
Reinstatement, hiring, or promotions.
Changes in employer policies to prevent future harassment.
Punitive damages in severe cases.
California employers have strict obligations:
Provide mandatory anti-harassment training (Gov. Code §12950.1):
1 hour for non-supervisors, 2 hours for supervisors.
Training must cover sexual orientation, gender identity, and gender expression.
Training is required within 6 months of hire and repeated every 2 years.
Maintain a written harassment prevention policy (2 CCR §11023):
Available in any language spoken by at least 10% of the workforce.
Includes a complaint process that ensures confidentiality and impartial investigations.
Must identify CRD and EEOC as external reporting options.
Prohibit retaliation — It is illegal to fire, demote, or punish an employee for reporting harassment.
If harassment escalates into assault:
Call 911 if in immediate danger.
Report to law enforcement.
Seek medical care promptly.
Call RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Hotline: 800-656-HOPE (4673).
🔹 What qualifies for harassment in California?
Any unwelcome conduct based on sex, gender, pregnancy, or orientation that creates a hostile or intimidating environment may qualify.
🔹 Can I sue my employer for harassment in California?
Yes. If your employer fails to prevent or address harassment—or retaliates—you can sue under FEHA (Gov. Code §12940) or Title VII.
🔹 How long do I have to file a claim?
Most employees have three years from the last incident to file a claim with the CRD. Federal EEOC deadlines may be shorter (generally 180–300 days).
🔹 What damages can I recover?
Victims may receive back pay, reinstatement, emotional distress damages, attorney’s fees, and sometimes punitive damages.
🔹 Can I be fired for reporting harassment?
No. Retaliation is illegal under both FEHA and Title VII. If it happens, you can file an additional claim.
🔹 What qualifies as a hostile work environment in California?
Behavior that is severe or pervasive enough to interfere with your ability to work—such as repeated touching, derogatory comments, or intimidation—meets the legal standard.
Workplace sexual harassment in California is taken seriously by both state and federal authorities. With strong protections under FEHA and Title VII, employees have clear rights to a safe work environment and legal remedies when those rights are violated.
If you are facing harassment, document incidents, file a complaint, and know that the law prohibits retaliation. For additional support, contact the California Civil Rights Department, the EEOC, or an experienced employment attorney.
Intimate scenes in film and television have always been complicated. From simulated sex and nudity to deeply vulnerable moments like childbirth or medical examinations, actors are often asked to expose themselves physically and emotionally in ways that can leave a lasting impact. For decades, these scenes were handled informally, with little to no safeguards in place.
That began to change after the #MeToo movement, when Hollywood confronted the abuses of power that had long gone unchecked. Out of that reckoning came the rise of the intimacy coordinator—a professional now seen as vital to modern storytelling, though not without controversy.
So what exactly does an intimacy coordinator do—and why are they at the center of Hollywood’s latest legal battles?
The first major production to credit an intimacy coordinator was HBO’s The Deuce (2017), a series set in New York’s porn industry. For the first time, actors were given structured support to navigate explicit material safely.
Since then, the role has exploded. SAG-AFTRA—the union representing screen actors—now requires productions to make a “good faith effort” to hire intimacy coordinators when intimate scenes are involved. Today, more than 100 certified ICs work across global productions, from Netflix dramas to Disney blockbusters.
As intimacy coordinator Amy Northrup explained, "Anything asking people to put their bodies in a hyper-exposed, vulnerable state is where intimacy coordinators can be effective team members."
Despite misconceptions, intimacy coordinators are not “sex police.” Their job is to create a safe, respectful, and authentic process for actors and filmmakers alike. They work as a creative collaborator, much like a stunt coordinator, to translate a director's vision into safe, choreographed actions. For instance, they might meticulously stage how an actor positions their body to appear nude while a modesty garment remains unseen by the camera, or they may ensure physical barriers are in place during a kissing scene.
Their work includes:
Their guiding principles, as outlined by the Intimacy Professionals Association (IPA), are:
There is no single career path to becoming an intimacy coordinator. Many come from acting, choreography, or theater backgrounds, bringing with them a specialized understanding of performance and consent that differs from standard filmmaking degrees. Certification programs—including those accredited by SAG-AFTRA and led by organizations like Intimacy Directors and Coordinators (IDC)—provide training in:
On average, intimacy coordinators earn $60,000–$90,000 annually, with union minimums around $1,500 per day on large productions.
Recent lawsuits underscore just how high the risks are when productions fail to employ intimacy coordinators.
In 2023, stunt double Devyn LaBella filed a lawsuit against Kevin Costner and the producers of Horizon 2, alleging she was forced to perform an unscripted rape scene without prior consent or intimacy coordination. LaBella claims she was humiliated, physically uncomfortable, and traumatized, describing the moment as “an abomination” of union safeguards. Costner’s team has denied the allegations. The case remains active and could reshape how studios approach IC hiring. You can read more about the lawsuit's details in this People magazine report.
In 2024, actress Blake Lively filed a sexual harassment suit against co-star and director Justin Baldoni, alleging inappropriate conduct on set. Critics quickly noted the on-set controversy surrounding the role of an intimacy coordinator. While the production did hire a coordinator, Baldoni has claimed in his lawsuit that Lively refused to meet with her before filming began. This case highlights how even A-list productions can leave gaps in safety protocols, and how a lack of full collaboration with the IC can be a central point of legal contention.
Not everyone in Hollywood embraces intimacy coordination. Gwyneth Paltrow has said she felt “stifled” by the presence of an IC, preferring the old-school approach of stripping down and filming. Jennifer Aniston and Michael Douglas have expressed similar skepticism, suggesting that the role interferes with artistic freedom.
But critics argue this ignores the reality of power imbalances. As journalist Barbara Ellen noted, "Intimacy coordinators are not just for lead actors or directors—they are designed to advocate for everyone, especially the powerless on set."
At their core, intimacy coordinators represent progress in an industry that has too often overlooked the well-being of its most vulnerable workers.
Just as stunt work requires experts to avoid broken bones, intimate work requires experts to avoid broken trust.
What is an intimacy coordinator? An intimacy coordinator is a professional who choreographs and supervises intimate scenes (sex, nudity, vulnerable situations) to ensure safety, consent, and authenticity.
Are intimacy coordinators required in movies? SAG-AFTRA mandates that productions make a good-faith effort to hire them when intimate content is involved. While not legally required in all cases, major studios increasingly use them as standard practice.
What qualifications are needed? ICs often train in trauma-informed consent, movement coaching, and modesty protocols. Many come from acting, directing, or choreography backgrounds.
How much do intimacy coordinators make? They earn between $60,000 and $90,000 annually, with union day rates averaging $1,500.
Intimacy coordinators are more than behind-the-scenes extras. They are legal safeguards, creative collaborators, and emotional anchors for actors performing some of the most vulnerable work in cinema. As the lawsuits against Kevin Costner and Justin Baldoni show, the stakes are no longer just about comfort or artistry—they are about legal liability and workplace ethics.
In the post-#MeToo era, hiring an intimacy coordinator is no longer just good practice. It’s an industry standard—and a moral imperative.
Kevin Costner has formally responded to sexual harassment allegations made by stunt performer Devyn LaBella, calling the sexual harassment claims “absolutely false” and insisting they were designed to harm both his personal reputation and the future of his Horizon Western film series.
The 70-year-old actor, director, and producer filed a motion to strike in California Superior Court this week, arguing that LaBella’s lawsuit is “a blatant lie” and amounts to reputational sabotage.
LaBella first filed her complaint in May 2025, later amending it in June with additional details. She alleges that while filming Horizon: An American Saga, she was pressured into performing what amounted to an unscripted rape scene without prior consent or preparation.
Her attorneys said the ordeal left her in “shock, embarrassment and humiliation.” According to the filings, she was not informed in advance of the scene’s direction and was denied the chance to provide consent, violating both professional stunt standards and workplace protections.
In his sworn declaration, Costner categorically denied the claims:
“Devyn’s claims against me are absolutely false, and it is deeply disappointing to me that a woman who worked on our production would claim that I or any other member of my production team would make one of our own feel uncomfortable, let alone suffer the ‘nightmare’ she has invented,” Costner wrote.
He further alleged the language used in the lawsuit was “sensationalistic” and calculated to cause damage.
“My belief is that Devyn’s claims were designed, through the use of false statements and sensationalistic language, to damage my reputation,” he continued. “These allegations are so patently false I can only assume the purpose was to embarrass me and undermine the Horizon movies.”
Costner also attached photos, text messages, and declarations from colleagues who were present during the disputed shoot. He argued that LaBella appeared comfortable on set, sharing meals with her stunt coordinator afterward and even texting about the “wonderful weeks” she had spent working on the film.
Allegations of this kind fall under California’s Fair Employment and Housing Act (FEHA), one of the strongest anti-harassment frameworks in the United States. Under the law, sexual harassment is defined broadly, covering not only unwanted advances but also coercive or hostile work environments.
A key legal test is whether a reasonable person in the same position would have felt harassed, humiliated, or placed under duress. For film and stunt performers, this includes informed consent before intimate or violent scenes. The rise of intimacy coordinators in Hollywood productions reflects an industry-wide shift toward stronger protections, though legal enforcement often relies on civil lawsuits like LaBella’s.
If LaBella’s allegations were proven true, the case could fall under workplace sexual harassment, potentially leading to damages for emotional distress, lost wages, and punitive penalties. If the claims are unsubstantiated, Costner could seek dismissal or countersue for malicious prosecution.
Costner’s filing repeatedly emphasizes the reputational harm he says these allegations have caused. For celebrities, reputational damage can be as severe as legal penalties. Even if cleared in court, the public perception of wrongdoing can cost actors roles, endorsements, and trust from audiences.
Legal experts note that defamation law overlaps here. If a court determines LaBella knowingly made false statements with malicious intent, Costner could argue defamation and seek financial compensation. However, because LaBella’s claims were filed in court documents, they may fall under litigation privilege, making a defamation countersuit difficult.
Reputation is often called the “intangible currency” of Hollywood—easily damaged, rarely restored. Whether or not the allegations are proven, this case illustrates how modern litigation can reshape the trajectory of a star’s career.
Despite the legal turmoil, Costner has pressed ahead with his passion project. Horizon: An American Saga – Chapter 1 premiered in 2024 to mixed reviews, while Chapter 2 debuted earlier this year at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival. Costner has confirmed that a third and fourth installment are already in development, though no release dates have been set.
The pending case could determine not only the trajectory of LaBella’s claims, but also the future of one of Costner’s most ambitious cinematic undertakings.
The Costner–LaBella case underscores two realities: how sexual harassment law continues to shape Hollywood workplaces, and how quickly reputational damage can alter a public figure’s legacy, regardless of the eventual verdict.
In California, sexual harassment includes any unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, or conduct that creates a hostile, intimidating, or offensive work environment. This applies to all workplaces, including film sets, where performers must give informed consent before participating in intimate or violent scenes.
Yes. If someone can prove that false allegations caused measurable harm to their reputation, career, or income, they may bring a defamation or reputational harm claim. However, statements made in official court filings are often protected under litigation privilege, which can make such lawsuits challenging.
Hollywood productions increasingly employ intimacy coordinators and require clear consent protocols for sensitive scenes. Unions such as SAG-AFTRA also enforce workplace safety standards, ensuring performers are fully informed and protected during filming.
If a court determines that a sexual harassment claim is unfounded and was made with malicious intent, the accused party may seek dismissal, attorney’s fees, or even countersue. However, proving malicious intent is difficult, and courts carefully balance protecting victims with preventing misuse of the legal system.
