In the early days of this country, legitimate law enforcement was often scarce, weak, or simply nonexistent. In that vacuum came the so-called vigilance committees, a polite name for mobs with ropes, bad tempers, and an allergy to due process. They held kangaroo court “trials” that usually ended the same way: some poor soul swinging from a tree while the crowd congratulated itself for delivering justice. Swift. Satisfying. Primitive. The kind of justice you get when the loudest man in the mob also appoints himself judge, jury, and executioner. Today, of course, we like to pretend we are civilized. We arrest suspects. We file charges. We hold hearings. We allow lawyers to argue, judges to rule, witnesses to testify, and juries to deliberate. The process can take years. Felony cases often crawl through the courts at the speed of an arthritic mule. Appeals can last decades. That is simply too slow for the modern bloodthirsty crowd. They do not want evidence. They do not want nuance. T...

Mark Fuhrman, the disgraced LAPD detective who may have done more damage to the O.J. Simpson murder prosecution than the defense team could have dreamed of doing on its best day, has died at 74 from an advanced form of throat cancer. Apparently, he refused treatment and passed away. During the Simpson trial, Fuhrman was asked whether he had ever used the N-word when describing Black people. He denied it under oath. That was a bold move, in the same way jumping into a wood chipper is bold. A Marine Corps recruiter in Arizona had a recording that proved Fuhrman had lied. He claimed that he found the infamous bloody glove on Simpson’s property while Simpson was in Chicago. From there, speculation exploded that Fuhrman had planted the glove, conveniently manufacturing probable cause and helping drag the case into the legal swamp where it drowned. The tragic comedy is that Fuhrman could have survived the question by telling the truth. He could have said, “I am embarrassed to admit that d...

The History: On September 29, 2020, in Westlake Village, a horrible and deadly accident happened. Its seriousness demanded a full and uncompromising investigation by police. Mark Iskander, 11, and Jacob Iskander, 8, were killed while crossing the street at night. They were not quietly walking shoulder-to-shoulder with their parents. They were on a skateboard and rollerblades, moving across a dark roadway under difficult conditions that mattered then and matter even more now. Rebecca Grossman, who, with her husband Peter Grossman, MD, was every bit of a wealthy philanthropist. She was administering the Grossman Burn Center, which has famously helped countless people suffering ghastly injuries return to normal lives. Rebecca Grossman had consumed alcohol, but she was not charged or convicted as a DUI driver. The prosecution’s speed theory rested heavily on reconstruction opinions and guesswork. Those are not fingerprints. They are educated conclusions built from assumptions, measureme...

Let me begin with the boring little detail that ruins everybody’s fun: there is no known ongoing police investigation. That means we are left with the usual American pastime, trying to separate actual facts from gossip, hysteria, and the kind of eyewitness drama normally reserved for UFO landings. The Blue Dog is a small but popular restaurant near Sepulveda and Ventura in Sherman Oaks. It serves very decent burgers, which I can say because I’ve eaten there several times and somehow managed to survive without becoming part of a national incident. Apparently, Britney Spears was there with her personal assistant and bodyguard. The story, as it has been served up, medium rare and heavily seasoned, is that Britney was telling a story, perhaps a little loudly, about a barking dog. At some point, she was also cutting her burger with a table knife. Yes, a table knife. At a restaurant. Near a burger.  Call the FBI!. Now, anyone familiar with the Blue Dog knows the tables are packed to...

Video journalism is no longer reserved for people with press badges, satellite trucks, makeup artists, and a producer whispering into their earpiece. Today, any American with a smartphone can livestream a newsworthy event on YouTube, Facebook, X, or any other platform that still allows ordinary people to show the public what is actually happening. And here is the beautiful part: you may already be standing exactly where the story is breaking. The so-called professional journalists are usually miles away, stuck in traffic, waiting for a crew, begging for permission, or trying to figure out how to politically sanitize the story before they even arrive. You are already there. You are already seeing it. You are already holding the camera.That matters. The legacy media is fading fast, and much of the wound is self-inflicted. They dove headfirst into political advocacy, woke storylines, selective outrage, and carefully manufactured narratives. Then they acted shocked when the public stop...

I made a special effort to study executed Nazi war criminal Adolf Eichmann. We share the same birthdate, March 19. That small coincidence made the study more personal, and far more disturbing. What I found was not a monster born with horns. Eichmann came from an ordinary family. His family moved from Germany to Austria, and like many Europeans of that period, they were battered by the Depression. He was not brilliant, not charismatic, and not especially impressive. He was a small man with a pronounced nose, and he reportedly had some familiarity with Yiddish and Hebrew from his work on Jewish affairs. Some people suspected he might be Jewish, but that was never established. Eichmann was an underachieving student who drifted through a series of jobs. He worked as a laborer, salesman, and clerk. He was the kind of man history usually forgets. Unfortunately, history did not forget him. As often happens in life, mediocre people sometimes find themselves lifted into powerful positions, ...