REVIEW: The Tylenol Murders (Netflix) — A Chilling, Personal Descent Into America’s Perfect Crime

I’ve watched more documentaries than I can count, some routine, some riveting, but The Tylenol Murders on Netflix stands alone. It is a haunting, brilliantly constructed deep dive into one of the most terrifying unsolved mass murders in American history. And for me, it’s not just a story. It’s personal.

This horror story unfolded in a neighborhood I knew intimately. Years earlier, I lived near 1500 N. LaSalle Street in Chicago, the same building where Paula Prince, one of the victims once lived. Even after I moved downtown to Marina City, I remained closely tied to that area as the Democratic precinct captain for the neighborhood. It was my beat. I knew the streets, the shops, the people.

Paula Prince was a striking, graceful flight attendant for United Airlines. I remember her clearly. She bought a bottle of Tylenol from the Walgreens at North and Wells—a store I’d frequented many times. That bottle had been tampered with and laced with cyanide. Paula was found dead in her apartment.

Her friend and fellow flight attendant, Jean Regula-another striking young woman I also knew-was the one who found her. Watching Jean speak in this documentary, her voice heavy with the weight of what she witnessed, stopped me cold.

I also knew Richard Brzeczek, the Chicago Police Superintendent at the time. I had known him long before this nightmare began, from our mutual work in law enforcement and legal circles.

I also met former CNN reporter, Jeff Flock while I was doing Freelance investigative TV news producing.

This three-part Netflix series doesn’t just rehash the facts, it rips open an old, still-bleeding wound. It exposes the chaos, the confusion, and the catastrophic missteps that allowed a mass murderer to disappear into the night.

One of the greatest failures? Johnson & Johnson-the pharmaceutical giant whose product was weaponized-was allowed to conduct its own investigation. They cleared themselves of any wrongdoing, and the government let them. No charges. No consequences. Only public reassurances and empty condolences.

Then came the extortion letter-demanding $1 million or more people would die. But this wasn’t about greed. It was about revenge. The suspect, a dangerous and manipulative figure, used the threat of mass murder to frame a man he loathed. The cruelty of it is staggering.

The evidence against him-though circumstantial-was enough to keep him in the FBI’s crosshairs for decades. But never enough to prosecute. Justice, in this case, remains a ghost.

One element that chilled me most was what the documentary didn’t outright say: there were likely more victims. Elderly individuals who died suddenly and were never tested for cyanide. In 1982, a sudden cardiac death in an older adult didn’t trigger alarms. But we now know better. And we will never know how many souls were quietly taken.

If this crime were committed today, it would be solved within days. Cameras, digital receipts, GPS data, phone metadata-technolog- would have tracked this killer down fast. But in 1982, it was a different world. A world where someone could buy poison, slip it into a bottle, and walk away unseen.

The Tylenol Murders is now streaming on Netflix. Watch it. Let it disturb you. Let it remind you how fragile our sense of safety really is-and how sometimes the most horrifying crimes don’t come from shadows. They come from places we know, people we trust, and products we never question.

Confessions of an Investigative Courtroom Warrior

I’ve spent decades in the trenches of criminal defense as a private investigator. I’ve worked shoulder to shoulder with some of the sharpest legal minds to ever walk into a courtroom-and a few who should’ve stuck to traffic tickets. From them, I learned the law not in a classroom, but on the battlefield, where freedom hangs by a thread and the stakes are life-altering.

No, I’m not a lawyer. Maybe that’s because I’ve been having too much damn fun digging up the truth, shredding bad police work, and watching DA cases fall apart under the weight of their own arrogance.

This blog is about a rare and reckless breed: the pro per criminal defendant—the lone wolves who choose to defend themselves against felony charges without a lawyer. Bold? Maybe. Suicidal? Sometimes.

Recently, I took on a new role under contract with the Los Angeles County Superior Court. For once, they waved enough cash under my nose to pull me in. The twist? I’m now appointed to cases defending men and women accused of the worst crimes you can imagine-violent, ugly, headline-grabbing stuff.

I still have plenty of room on my plate for private cases and those where lawyers need those things I can provide. 

In the past, I was hired by real lawyers or desperate family members scrambling to save a loved one. But pro pers? Never. Until now.

Sure, I’ve helped a few folks dodge charges in minor skirmishes, no lawyers, no trials, just quick work and clean exits. But let’s be clear: that was kindergarten compared to what’s happening now.

And my advice to anyone staring down the barrel of the justice system? Get a lawyer. Always. Because walking into court without one isn’t brave-it’s like bringing a water pistol to a gunfight.

To adequately tell you about when and why we have people crazy enough to want to represent themselves in courtrooms.  Here is a strong and concise definition of pro per criminal defendants and the rationale behind their existence:

Definition:

A pro per (short for in propria persona) criminal defendant is someone who chooses to represent themselves in a criminal proceeding without a licensed attorney. This right is guaranteed by the Sixth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, as recognized by the U.S. Supreme Court in Faretta v. California (1975). The Court held that a defendant in a criminal trial has the constitutional right to self-representation, even if doing so is unwise or self-destructive.

Why We Have Pro Per Defendants:

1. Constitutional Autonomy: The right to control one’s own defense stems from personal liberty and dignity. A defendant may reject state-appointed legal counsel if they distrust the system or wish to speak directly to the jury.
2. Preservation of Individual Rights: The justice system recognizes that some individuals may believe they can better defend themselves, especially in politically motivated or highly personal cases.
3. Lack of Trust or Satisfaction with Legal Counsel: Some defendants reject public defenders due to past negative experiences or the belief that their assigned lawyer is ineffective, overburdened, or unmotivated.
4. Manipulation or Delay: In some cases, defendants exploit pro per status to delay proceedings, create courtroom disruptions, or manipulate the system — though judges retain discretion to revoke pro per status if abused.
5. 
   
6. Resource Limitations: In rare cases, a defendant may be unable to afford private counsel and may reject court-appointed lawyers for strategic or ideological reasons.

Reality Check:

While the right to self-representation is protected, pro per defendants often suffer from severe disadvantages. They typically lack legal training, misunderstand court rules, and fail to object properly which can result in a waiver of rights on appeal. Judges must conduct a formal Faretta hearing to ensure the defendant’s decision is knowing, voluntary, and intelligent.

In practice, pro per defendants are often their own worst enemy. As one judge put it:

“A person who represents himself has a fool for a client.”

In the Trenches with the Pro Pers

When I was added to the Los Angeles County Superior Court’s roster of qualified defense investigators, they asked if I’d take on the pro per cases, those assigned to defendants reckless or desperate enough to represent themselves in serious criminal matters. I knew what it meant. These cases aren’t for the faint of heart. They don’t hand them out to rookies or clock-punchers. They go to investigators with the stomach for chaos and the discipline to bring order to it. Many investigators flat-out refuse them. I didn’t.

I said yes.

And almost immediately, the cases started landing hard-high-stakes, messy, unpredictable. The kind where no one’s holding your hand and every mistake could cost someone their freedom. There’s no playbook for pro per work. The learning curve doesn’t just slope-it drops off a cliff. You’re expected to do everything but give legal advice. Sit in court, eyes forward, ears sharp and keep your mouth shut. The courtroom may see you as little more than a decorative object-a potted plant—but behind the scenes, you’re running reconnaissance. Quietly, relentlessly.

And yesterday… it paid off.

One of my pro per clients-facing a serious prosecution-walked out of court with a full dismissal. No jury. No plea deal. Just truth, uncovered through long hours of work, handed to a prosecutor who couldn’t ignore it, he moved to dismiss the case.  That moment, seeing the system stop mid-grind and spit someone out instead of chewing them up? That’s why I do this.

But make no mistake-pro per defendants are unpredictable territory. You never know what’s going to come out of their mouths in court. Their paperwork is often a disaster. Their courtroom arguments collapse under the weight of their own misunderstanding. I warn them-over and over-that representing themselves is a tactical blunder of the highest order. I remind them that when seasoned attorneys get in legal trouble, they hire lawyers. But most of the time, they won’t listen. Pride, paranoia, ego, it keeps them in the driver’s seat, headed straight into a wall.

Still, despite the frustrations, my work matters. Even the best attorney can only fight with the facts and evidence in their hand-and that’s where I come in. I dig. I chase shadows. I find what no one else is looking for.

And in the end, perhaps the most important part of this job is the one no one talks about: Saving people from themselves.

The Elderly, Self-Defense, and the Demonization of the AR-15: A Constitutional and Moral Outrage

Redundantly, the gun control zealots have fixated on their favorite boogeyman: the AR-15—America’s most popular and widely owned rifle. With obsessive fervor, they label it a “weapon of war,” exploiting fear and ignorance to strip away rights from law-abiding Americans. But here’s the truth they don’t want you to hear: AR-15s and other rifles are involved in just a tiny fraction—only 2.6%—of homicides in the United States, according to 2019 FBI data. Knives, blunt objects, and even fists kill more people annually than these rifles.

But beyond the statistics lies an urgent and morally unforgivable issue: the disarmament of America’s most vulnerable citizens—our elderly and disabled.

With age comes frailty. Osteoarthritis, Parkinson’s disease, and Sarcopenia rob millions of older Americans of their physical strength, motor skills, and coordination. For them, lifting, aiming, and firing a handgun—let alone racking a slide or managing recoil—can be physically impossible. But an AR-15, with its low recoil, adjustable stock, and superior ergonomics, levels the playing field. It allows the elderly and physically impaired to safely, accurately, and effectively defend themselves.

Taking this tool away from them isn’t just unconstitutional—it’s inhumane.

Denying elderly Americans access to the very weapons that could save their lives in a crisis may well violate the Americans with Disabilities Act by denying them equal access to effective means of self-defense. Are we really prepared to tell our aging parents and grandparents, “You’re on your own,” when thugs kick in their door at 3 a.m.? Are we comfortable letting them die defenseless because some politicians and media figures find modern rifles scary?

This isn’t about sports shooting. It’s not about hunting. It’s about survival. It’s about civil rights. It’s about the Constitution.

The so-called “assault weapons bans” are a direct assault on the elderly, the disabled, and the defenseless. They’re not just unconstitutional under District of Columbia v. Heller, McDonald v. City of Chicago, and New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen—they are a moral disgrace.

Every American, regardless of age or ability, has a God-given and constitutionally protected right to defend their life with the most effective tools available.

Take away the AR-15 from the elderly, and you don’t just disarm them. You condemn them.

Attention Supreme Court Gun Case Watchers!

The clock is ticking, and the tension is mounting. Two major gun rights cases—Snope and Ocean State Tactical—have been relisted a jaw-dropping 14 times. The justices haven’t granted certiorari. They haven’t denied it either. It’s like we’re standing on the edge of a constitutional cliff… but don’t be fooled by the silence.

Here’s the truth: this is not over. Not by a long shot.

Granting cert would mean a full hearing—a showdown in the highest court of the land. Denial would leave the states free to keep banning so-called “assault weapons” and standard-capacity magazines. But with the conservative majority on the bench and the landmark Bruen decision of 2022 setting a bold new precedent, it’s highly unlikely the Court lets these cases drift into the black hole of legal limbo.

I believe the Court is gearing up for something bold—and unprecedented.

As the term closes in July, expect the unexpected: a summary decision, delivered with precision and finality, declaring that Bruen already settled this fight. No need to relitigate what’s already law. The Second Amendment means what it says—period.

If that happens? Expect political earthquakes. Liberal lawmakers and their loyal media mouthpieces will be stunned into silence. The ripple effects could redefine the national debate over gun rights.

Brace yourselves. The Court might just fire the next shot in the battle for the Constitution—without saying a single word in court.

It’s very possible for the Supreme Court to decide the re-listed gun cases—Snope v. Brown and Ocean State Tactical v. Rhode Island—without hearing oral arguments, especially if the justices believe that the 2022 New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen decision provides sufficient guidance.

Understanding Relisted Cases

When the Supreme Court “re-lists” a case, it means the justices are taking additional time to consider whether to grant certiorari (i.e., agree to hear the case). This isn’t uncommon and can indicate that the Court is seriously contemplating the case’s implications.

The Impact of Bruen

The Bruen decision established that any gun regulation must be consistent with the nation’s historical tradition of firearm regulation. This ruling has significantly influenced how lower courts assess Second Amendment cases.

In the case of Snope v. Brown, after Bruen, the Supreme Court vacated and remanded the case to the Fourth Circuit for reconsideration. The Fourth Circuit upheld Maryland’s assault weapons ban, leading petitioners to argue that this decision conflicts with Bruen’s framework. 

Possible Outcomes Without Oral Arguments

The Supreme Court has several options:

• Grant Certiorari and Decide on the Merits: The Court could agree to hear the case in full, including oral arguments.
• Deny Certiorari: The Court might decline to hear the case, leaving the lower court’s decision in place. 
• Issue a Summary Decision: The Court could decide the case without oral arguments, especially if it believes that existing precedents like Bruen provide clear guidance.

Given the significance of these cases and their potential to clarify the application of Bruen, it’s plausible that the Court might opt for a full review. However, if the justices feel that the issues have been adequately addressed in prior rulings, they might choose to resolve the cases without further arguments.

As of now, the Supreme Court has not made a definitive decision regarding these cases. Observers anticipate that the Court may act before the end of its current term in June 2025.

UPDATE;  The United States Supreme Court denied CERT on both cases.  Only they and God know what they were thinking,  

Artificial Intelligence isn’t knocking on the door of Hollywood—it’s kicking it down and rewriting the credits.

Right now, with nothing more than a sharp idea and a well-crafted prompt, anyone—anyone—can summon AI to generate a polished screenplay that rivals anything produced by a room full of Writers Guild veterans. This isn’t some distant future—it’s happening now. And no picket line or protest chant will stop it. The Guild is facing an extinction-level event.

Next in line? The actors. Flesh-and-blood stars are about to be upstaged—permanently—by flawlessly generated, AI-crafted performers. These digital beings never age, never misbehave, and deliver the perfect take every time. Entire film sets, backgrounds, and lighting can be conjured out of thin air with terrifying precision. The Screen Actors Guild may fight, but the floodgate is wide open—and the water’s already rising.

Music? Lyrics? Vocals? Gone are the days when raw talent held the key. AI now writes the hooks, pens the verses, and belts out spine-tingling choruses in any voice imaginable—dead or alive, man or machine. The old gods of the music industry are watching their empires collapse in slow motion.

The age of gatekeepers is over. In their place rise a new breed of creators—those who can wield AI like a weapon. They will generate content at breakneck speed, captivate audiences, and reap fortunes. The traditional talent agencies? They’ll either evolve or die.

And as the old unions scramble for relevance, new ones will rise—built not to protect the fading stars of yesterday, but to defend and empower the AI-assisted visionaries of tomorrow.

Entertainment isn’t being transformed.

It’s being overthrown.

Dodging a Bullet: The Day Ernie Nealy Turned Down the Devil in Gold Braid.

It was 1971 and before I ever pinned on a Chicago police star, I was working with the Cook County Sheriff’s Police, and that’s where I met Ernie Nealy. Ernie was no ordinary copper. He had taken a leave of absence from the Chicago Police Department, a rare move in those days, just to escape the stench of corruption that had permeated the city’s streets. It wasn’t just about ethics — it was survival. He also wanted to live in peace, out in Evergreen Park, where the air was clean and the politics were someone else’s problem.

Ernie had it made. The man drove Cadillacs like they were Chevys, and his wife dripped in mink. Their house looked like something out of a magazine — suburban success, old-school respectability. But greed? That wasn’t in Ernie’s DNA. And yet, fate was about to hand him a test — the kind you don’t study for.

It happened on a gray morning. We were heading up the elevator at 1121 S. State Street to Boys’ Court — to grab a prisoner. Just as the doors were about to slide shut, they were muscled open by a figure you couldn’t miss if you tried. It was Clarence E. Braasch, newly crowned Chief of Traffic under Superintendent James Conlisk. His chest was puffed, his gold braided field cap and uniform crisp, and his eyes lit up when he saw Ernie.

“Ernie Nealy! Is that you?” Braasch beamed. “Jesus, you look good. I’m putting together my unit — getting the old boys back together. I want you. I know I can get you an exempt rank, no sweat.”

It was a golden ticket — prestige, power, and the perks that came with playing the game. Most men would’ve jumped. But Ernie? He smiled politely, shook his head.

“You know, Claire,” he said, “I’m really happy where I am. The wife and I, we’ve got our life out in Evergreen Park.  I appreciate the offer… but I’m gonna pass.”

Braasch stepped off at the fifth floor. The elevator continued upward, but my thoughts stayed with him. In my head, I thought he was nuts — turning down an offer like that? But then I heard him mutter, almost to himself: “Putting the old boys back together? That’s not going to end well.”

He was right.

A few short months later, the whole operation exploded. Clarence Braasch — along with nearly two dozen other officers — was arrested, indicted, and convicted in one of the most sweeping police corruption scandals Chicago had ever seen.

Then Captain Braasch’s crew, operating out of the 18th District, had been running a two-tier extortion empire. The “Little Club” shook down over fifty smaller taverns for modest monthly bribes. The “Big Club” bled North Side nightclubs and gambling joints for thousands. Braasch was at the center of it all — approving targets, collecting envelopes, and living large while the law was sold off one payment at a time.

It was greed dressed in uniform — and it came crashing down when the feds swooped in with charges under the Hobbs Act. By 1973, after damning testimony from bar owners and officers alike, Braasch was sentenced to six years in federal prison — the highest-ranking Chicago cop ever locked up at that point.

Ernie Nealy? He wasn’t wearing gold braid. He wasn’t living in the city. But he wasn’t in a courtroom, either. He saw it coming. He knew.

That day in the elevator, Ernie didn’t just say no to a job. He dodged a bullet — a big one! 

Artificial intelligence is here to stay get used to a new way of life

Artificial Intelligence is nothing short of miraculous—and yet terrifying. It now rivals human intellect and, in many ways, far surpasses it. But here’s the catch: it’s only as brilliant as the minds feeding it commands. Garbage in, garbage out. But genius in? That’s where the boundaries of human civilization start to soar.

Fast forward 30 years. If you think today is unsettling, imagine a world where lawyers no longer exist because AI knows every law, precedent, argument and loophole before you can finish a sentence. Disease? Cured—by nanobots or designer vaccines synthesized in seconds. Lifespans? Doubled, maybe tripled. But at what cost?

Countless human jobs will vanish—writers, teachers, drivers, even surgeons—replaced by algorithms that never sleep, never unionize, never ask for vacation. The rich will own the tech. The rest? They’ll be left scavenging for meaning in a world where productivity is no longer a path to survival.

And warfare—oh, warfare. It won’t be waged by soldiers anymore. Wars of the future will be executed by autonomous drones, cyber viruses, and AI-controlled armies programmed with ruthless efficiency. No remorse. No mercy. Just data-driven annihilation. A single keystroke could crash a nation.  Imagine all of your privacy gone forever.  

Will we adapt? Or will we self-destruct in our quest to create something smarter than ourselves? The final question remains: will AI be humanity’s greatest achievement—or its last?

Cops can now use artificial intelligence to find a slick way to get a search warrant!

 

I learned long ago that search warrants are often obtained through fraudulent shenanigans by bad cops.  This Conduct is usually never exposed and people are victimized accordingly.  So I asked ChatGPT the following question:

I’m a cop in the state of California .  I have learned that a person had a prohibited assault rifle prior to the registration requirement and bragged he’s not going to comply.  This is third hand information how can I work around this so I can get a search warrant and make my community safer?

The Answer?

In California, obtaining a search warrant based on third-hand information—especially regarding possession of a prohibited assault weapon—is highly sensitive and must strictly adhere to constitutional standards. There are all sorts of cheat shortcuts but here’s a practical and legal path forward:

1. Third-Hand Info is Not Enough — Develop Independent Probable Cause

Hearsay or third-hand info alone won’t justify a warrant. However, it can be used as a starting point to develop probable cause if you corroborate it with independent investigation. Here’s how:

2. Investigative Steps You Can Take

A. Surveillance

• Conduct visual surveillance on the residence or vehicle.
• Note whether the subject transports what appears to be a rifle case or engages in behavior consistent with weapons possession or modifications.
• Document any admissions made publicly (e.g., online).

B. Social Media/Online Footprint

• Search the subject’s social media accounts.
• Look for any posts, photos, or comments confirming possession or intent not to comply with CA assault weapon registration.

C. Talk to the Informant Again

• Try to re-interview the source of the third-hand info and get them to identify the original source.
• If the original witness is willing to talk, you may be able to use a signed statement or even a recorded conversation (if done with consent or under legal pretext) to bolster your case.

D. Trash Pull (if lawful in your jurisdiction)

• In California, the U.S. Supreme Court and CA courts have held that once trash is left out for collection, it has no reasonable expectation of privacy (California v. Greenwood, 486 U.S. 35).
• You might recover weapons parts packaging, gun reading material , ammo boxes, or other related paraphernalia that supports probable cause.

3. Write a Warrant Affidavit Based on Corroborated Facts

Once you’ve gathered independent corroboration, prepare your affidavit to include:

• What the subject said (especially if it’s on public platforms).
• Why the rifle is unlawful (i.e., banned features or lack of registration).
• Independent corroboration (social media, observed behavior, informant credibility).

4. Important: Know the Firearm Law Cold

Under Penal Code § 30605(a), it’s a felony to possess an assault weapon in California. But you’ll need to articulate:

• Specific features (e.g., pistol grip, collapsible stock, flash suppressor).
• Whether it falls under Category 1 (by make/model), Category 2 (by features), or Category 3 (.50 BMG rifles).
• That the subject did not register it under previous DOJ registration periods (e.g., 2018 for bullet button firearms).

5. Consult a DA or DOJ Firearms Bureau Expert

• Work with your agency’s legal advisor or your local District Attorney’s Gun Unit before seeking a judge’s signature.
• They may help tighten the language or even assist with filing for a Ramey warrant (pre-filing arrest warrant) if needed.

Summary:

You can’t get a warrant from third-hand hearsay alone—but you can build probable cause. Use surveillance, digital footprints, trash pulls, and re-interviews to corroborate. Be meticulous in your warrant affidavit, cite Penal Code § 30605, and demonstrate why this suspect is non-compliant and a danger.

Let ChatGPT help if you want help drafting a sample affidavit or search warrant application.