Marlon King is just a thug with a gold card

 

Victim Emily tells of star’s sneers, gropes and brutal punch

 

BEFORE: Emily in 2008 with lovely features and straight narrow nose. AFTER: Emily's pretty face is a bloodied, swollen mess

By Lucy Panton and Matthew Drake, 01/11/2009

THE devastated victim of Premier League thug Marlon King has bravely revealed her true identity and demanded he be banned from football for LIFE.

 

As King, 29, began an 18-month jail sentence for groping 20-year-old student Emily Carr and punching her in the face, she told for the first time how the £35,000-a-week striker taunted and floored her in the vicious nightclub attack.

Emily Carr, victim of Prem League thug Marlon King, tells of harrowing attack

Urging all Britain to look at her horrifying injuries in pictures taken just minutes after he broke her nose and split her lip, she sobbed:

"It was like having a brick smashed in your face. King hit me just like a professional boxer. He's a disgrace and

should never be allowed on a football pitch again."

 

I'VE LOST MY OLD FACE: Brave Emily speaking yesterday about her ordeal, which has left a permanent bulge in her nose

King's pretty young victim wept and shuddered as she recalled the horrific moment he punched her full in the face and sent her crashing to the nightclub floor.

Student Emily bravely waived her right to anonymity to reveal the full chilling story of how the Wigan Athletic star lashed out after sneering: "I'm a multi millionaire, love. . . you're not even in my league!"

 

As he started an 18-month jail term for groping and attacking her, Emily, 20, exclusively told the News of the World: "King thought he was Mr Big, but he's just a thug with a gold card."

Our shock pictures reveal the awful aftermath of the beating that left Emily spattered head to toe in blood, her teeth forced through her lip and her nose badly broken - disfigured for life.

She added: "King's defence moaned that the sentence would lose him £1 million in earnings - but I've lost my FACE. He's not fit ever to play for any team again."

Emily, just 5ft tall, decided to speak out to heap shame on 6ft 1in Jamaican international King - who is still protesting his innocence - and ensure the world sees him for the thug he is.

In a moving interview she told how the 29-year-old Premier League player:

GROPED her bottom in front of shocked clubbers.

Shy Emily, in her last year studying politics at Surrey's Kingston University, clutched her late mum's engagement ring for comfort as she recalled her night of horror last December 6.

She was out with friends at the Soho Revue Club in London's West End. King was there celebrating news that wife Julie was expecting his third child. "I only had two or three drinks before it happened, I certainly wasn't drunk," said Emily.

"When I first saw King I didn't know who he was but my friend Tim told me. I support Arsenal but don't even know the names of our own players.

"Then I was stood talking to my friends Nikki and Tim and suddenly felt someone grab my bum and grope me from behind. I could feel it was a man's hand.

It was disgusting, a violation. It wasn't just a little pinch

 

"It was disgusting, a violation. It wasn't just a little pinch it was a squeeze done in a sexual way. I was really offended. I swung round to see King there smirking, looking me up and down and leering. He was tall, in a tight-fitting top and seemed quite muscular. But he was acting like a dirty pervert. I looked him in the eye and slowly told him, 'Don't do that! Don't touch me!' "

Hitting back at claims that she was dressed provacatively, Emily told us: "I was in a grey strapless woollen dress. You couldn't describe it as revealing, it was very conservative.

"But King was stood there looking me up and down like I was a piece of meat. As he loomed over me sniggering I caught glimpses of his gold tooth as the lights hit it.

"Ten minutes later King came and stood on my right, really close. I was keeping an eye on him and being cautious. He was just inches away and right in my personal space. I saw him reach over and stroke my friends Sinead and Nikki on the neck. I saw Sinead go, 'Don't touch! Hands off!' His eyes were all over the place and he seemed quite drunk. He turned his attention back to me, gave me a dirty look and shouted, 'Get this girl away from me!'

WIFE JULIE: Insists she was never abused

"He then dropped his head down into my face and said, 'You're not even in my league love, not even in my league.' He was trying to belittle me and mock me."

Wiping away tears, Emily added: "I now know I'm not in his league, I'm well ABOVE it. But I stood my ground and calmly said, 'You're not part of this table, could you please leave?'

"King then bragged, 'I'm a multi millionaire, love' - loud enough above the music for people to hear. That's when my friend Ryan came to my aid and told him firmly but politely, 'Come on mate, leave it. She's not interested.'

"But King wouldn't stop. He started pushing my head, poking and prodding me in the temple. Ryan again asked him not to touch me but King goaded him more by pulling my hair.

"He was toying and teasing me, trying to spark a reaction from the boys.

A BLOODIED PULP: Injuries on her body

"Then he grabbed my wrist and one of my girl friends leaned over to pull his arm off and he let go. I went to pull my dress up and as I looked up again that's when he punched me.

There was no warning. I was knocked off my feet

 

"I never saw his hand, it came completely out of the blue. There was no warning. I was knocked off my feet.

"I fell backwards and Tim caught me. It was a blur but luckily I didn't lose consciousness. I felt all this warm liquid trickle down my face. I brought my hands up and realised it was blood. It wouldn't stop.

"Blood was pouring out of my lip where my teeth went through, and my nose was broken. I could taste the blood everywhere, in my mouth and nose. I've never been punched before. It was like being hit with a brick in the face. My friend who saw it said King took a step back and delivered the punch like a boxer in the ring - with full force.

"I know it sounds ridiculous but I was so in shock that all I could think about was that I was getting blood on my new Marc Jacobs handbag. I kept repeating, 'Where's my bag? Somebody wipe my bag!'

STAINS OF SHAME: Emily's dress

"It was only when I saw myself later I realised how serious it was. This sticky warm blood was all over my hands going crusty, and all over my pals Nikki and Sinead too.

"My grey dress had gone claret. I was still very shocked, my face was huge, my lip blown up, my cheek swollen and my nose on one side."

To add insult to injury the police were not alerted right away and it was left to Emily's pal Sinead to call for help more than half an hour after the beating. Emily said: "I was taken into a back room where a man who worked for the club told me that Marlon King was a regular who spends lots of money.

"He had the cheek to tell me, 'King is a really nice guy.' I can't believe he stood there seeing me covered in blood and said that."

While Emily waited for the police King sent a friend in to to see her.

"In walked this big beefy man," she said. "The door was guarded by two bouncers but he just sauntered in unchallenged. He told me, 'I'm here on behalf of Marlon King to apologise for what just happened.'

"But I was shocked at what came out of his mouth next. He looked down at me and said, 'You must have done something to provoke it.'

" I couldn't believe it. I felt intimidated, alone and frightened all over again. I just said, 'Get out! Get out!' I'm only a small girl, how an earth could I have provoked King. It's ridiculous.

"Now my mouth was hurting so much it was hard to talk. The numbness I felt from shock was beginning to wear off and now I could feel pain - a throbbing in my lip, cheek, nose and creeping across my face.

"Finally the police arrived and I was taken to hospital. My brother is a serving officer with the Met and came rushing to see me. I just broke down and cried.

My face was so swollen that the doctors couldn't tell what was broken

 

"By then my face was so swollen that the doctors couldn't tell what was broken."

Before the attack Emily had perfect facial features with a beautiful slender nose. But in the weeks after the attack she was told cowardly King had damaged it forever. "A surgeon said all the bones in my nose had been smashed to the left," said Emily. "When I look in the mirror or see photos of myself now I can see this big bulge.

"And every time I see my disfigured face it's a permanent reminder of HIM. I will never be able to forget the attack. I don't want to sound vain but I've lost my old face.

"I couldn't eat during the trial and I've lost weight. I've also suffered with depression. With one punch he has changed my life for ever."

Emily's ordeal was prolonged when King was arrested and questioned but refused to admit the attack. And this week she had to relive the whole nightmare again before a packed court. "Every day I went to court I felt sick and was retching," she said. "It was horrible.

"His staring eyes in the dock were cold and showed not a bit of remorse. That told me everything. He just didn't care.

"King didn't need to put us through that trial. It was cruel.

"When the guilty verdict came in I looked over at his wife Julie with her head in her hands and thought, 'Now you KNOW what he's done, even if you don't want to believe it.' I feel sorry for her."

When Julie King was asked yesterday if she had ever been the victim of domestic abuse she insisted: "Never!"

But her spokesman added that she would not be giving interviews until she sees what comes out about her husband over the next few days.

Although Wigan have sacked King and his behaviour has been widely condemned, Emily is angry there's no universal cry for him to be banned from the game for life.

"I've a cousin who, like thousands of youngsters, looks up to footballers as role models," she said. "King should never be allowed on the pitch again.

"I believe in giving people a second chance but King has 13 previous convictions and has used up all his chances."

Arsenal boss Arsene Wenger, disagrees. He said: "When he has paid his sentence, of course you would consider signing someone like that. Otherwise you would never forgive anybody anything."

But Emily hit back: "Would a manager like Wenger be saying that and proposing to pay such a thug massive amounts of money every week if HIS daughter was attacked?

"It sets a bad precedent if you fail your fans and endorse these brutes."

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Granny: Jogger mob trampled me

By JANON FISHER

Last Updated: 5:46 AM, November 1, 2009

Posted: 3:37 AM, November 1, 2009

Call it a run and hit.

Tonie Derezeas, 74, said was walking her Shih Tzu, Apollo, on the promenade at Carl Schurz Park on the Upper East Side on Sept. 3 around 7 p.m., when she was trampled by a herd of harriers from the New York Road Runners Club.

"I didn't see them coming," she said. "All I heard was crunch."

A still battered and bruised Derezeas claimed the pack of 70 road hogs slammed into her, sending her reeling to the pavement, breaking her jaw and knocking out most of her teeth.

"I swear I thought I was going to die," she said.

The joggers escorted the retired TV advertising producer to the curb, shoved a $10 bill in her hand, stuffed her in the back of a cab and went on with their run, barely breaking stride, she said.

Doctors rewired her jaw, broken in two places.

The Road Runners Club denied any official event that day.

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Medical alert after series of passengers mysteriously faint mid-flight on their way to Britain

 

By Daily Mail Reporter

Last updated at 12:58 PM on 01st November 2009

Six people collapsed on a transatlantic flight yesterday - sparking a decontamination operation when the British Airways plane landed at Heathrow.

Firefighters in special suits and breathing apparatus boarded the Boeing 777 at a remote stand at Terminal 5 amid fears of fumes or a mystery bug.

The area was sealed off and officials scanned the plane with a handheld device, while a paddling pool was placed at the end of an escape chute - believed to be part of a decontamination system.

 

Checks: A firefighting in a decontamination suit checks a British Airways plane at Heathrow after six passengers fainted mid-flight

Health fears: Emergency teams rushed on board when the plane from Newark in the U.S. arrived in Britain in case of a chemical leak

Six ambulances stood by as paramedics boarded the plane to treat stricken passengers, who complained of feeling 'light-headed and faint'.

All 216 passengers were kept on board the jet from Newark until the sick were well enough to leave.

It is thought the affected passengers, who were sitting in different areas of economy class, may have had a stomach bug.

Passenger Jill Onen, 47, from Epsom, Surrey, said: 'By the time we got off elderly people who hadn't fainted were pretty close to it.'

 

Taking no chances: Emergency vehicles lined up next to the plane

Alert: Passengers snapped this picture of firemen checking for any hazards

BA said: 'All the passengers who collapsed were assessed and able to continue with their journeys.'

The plane was investigated and checked by emergency crews but was deemed safe and was put back into use on the same day, British Airways said.

A spokeswoman for London Fire Brigade said the Boeing 777 aircraft, which had 14 crew on board, was fit to fly.

'The cabin area and flight deck were declared safe using equipment and by crews wearing gas-type suits,' she said.

A BA spokeswoman was not able to say whether the aircraft underwent more rigorous cleaning procedures as a result of the fainting spells

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Boy, 10, Killed by Tree While Trick-or-Treating

 

Sunday, November 01, 2009

PELHAM, N.H. —  A 10-year-old boy who apparently was trick-or-treating in a New Hampshire neighborhood was killed after a tree snapped near its base and struck him.

Pelham Fire Department officials told WMUR television station the birch tree broke about four feet from its base and hit the child. The boy went into cardiac arrest. He was taken to a Lowell, Mass., hospital, where he died.

Neighbors told the television station the boy was out trick-or-treating Saturday.

It was not immediately known what caused the tree to break.

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British nuclear expert’s 17th floor UN death plunge ‘was not suicide’

By Keri Sutherland

Last updated at 12:52 AM on 01st November 2009

Death: Timothy Hampton was involved in monitoring nuclear activity

A British nuclear expert who fell from the 17th floor of a United Nations building did not commit suicide and may have been hurled to his death, says a doctor who carried out a second post-mortem examination.

Timothy Hampton, 47, a scientist involved in monitoring nuclear activity, was found dead last week at the bottom of a stairwell in Vienna.

An initial autopsy concluded that there were ‘no suspicious circumstances’. But it is understood that Mr Hampton’s widow Olena Gryshcuk and her family were deeply unhappy with that verdict.

Now a doctor who undertook a second post-mortem examination on behalf of the family believes she has found evidence that Mr Hampton did not die by his own hands.

Professor Kathrin Yen, of the Ludwig Institute in Graz, Austria, which specialises in traumatology research, said she had more tests to complete on Mr Hampton, who had a three-year-old son with Ms Gryshcuk.

But she said one possible theory was that Mr Hampton was carried to the 17th floor from his workplace on the sixth floor and thrown to his death.

Professor Yen used new forensic techniques to detect internal bruising caused by strangulation which would not be visible to the eye.

She said: ‘In my opinion, it does not look like suicide. My example is that somebody took him up to the top floor and took him down.

‘At the moment I don’t have the police reports. We did a CT scan. From the external exam, I saw injuries on the neck but these were not due to strangulation.’

It is expected to take three weeks for blood test results to come back. Austrian police said they believe Mr Hampton committed suicide.

He had been working for the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty Organisation (CTBTO) at the UN building.

CTBTO staff monitor tremors in countries worldwide to uncover illegal nuclear tests. It has been suggested that Mr Hampton may have been involved in talks discussing nuclear testing in Iran. The UN has strongly denied the claims.

 

Doubts: Mr Hampton's death at the UN building is under investigation

His body was discovered last Tuesday at about 8pm. Friends said it was usual for him to work late into the night. His widow, a weapons inspector for the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), was working in Japan when her husband died.

A source close to the family said life had not been easy for Mr Hampton, who was often away from his wife and son.

But the source added that he was ‘not the suicide type’. He said: ‘Tim was rather introverted. He changed his life many times.’

Trained in Britain as a bio-chemist, Mr Hampton worked in a bio-lab before moving into construction.

He then worked on nuclear test-ban projects before joining the UN in 1998, said the CTBTO.

The IAEA, an independent and separate organisation, inspects nuclear plants worldwide and is based in the building next to the CTBTO in Vienna.

Under a year ago, an American died at the IAEA in strikingly similar circumstances, his body being found at the bottom of a stairwell.

A UN spokeswoman said an investigation into that case continues, though Austrian police have concluded it was suicide.

She said: ‘This might have been a copycat thing in the CTBTO.’

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Man Reportedly Kills 3 Children With Ax After Meeting With Witch Doctor in Zimbabwe

 

Sunday, November 01, 2009

HARARE, Zimbabwe —  Zimbabwe's state media say a man allegedly killed three of his children with an ax and wounded two others in what police describe as Zimbabwe's most brutal crime in recent years.

The Sunday Mail newspaper quotes police as saying Elmon Mupombwa, 41, also torched his home in eastern Zimbabwe on Thursday and killed his livestock — five cattle, 20 goats and 17 chickens — before hanging himself.

It said the dead children were aged 11, 7 and 5. Their two siblings were in critical condition at a local hospital.

Police said Mupombwa had attended a tribal ritual conducted by a spirit medium, also known as a witch doctor.

The nation's economic and political turmoil has seen a rise in the use witchcraft and tribal sects to allay hardships.

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'Which hand do you want

 to lose first?': The inspiring story of MARITU KAMARA, who survived Sierra Leone's war

 

By Mariatu Kamara

Last updated at 9:50 AM on 01st November 2009

For 12-year-old Mariatu Kamara, death would have been a welcome release when she was captured by rebel soldiers during Sierra Leone’s brutal civil war. But, as she recounts here, her machete-wielding tormentors had an even crueller fate in store for her…

 

Mariatu, now 23, and living in Canada

I knelt down in front of my captors, lowered my head, and waited. ‘OK, little one,’ said the older rebel. ‘Get lost. We don’t want you after all.’ I wasn’t sure I had heard the words correctly, so I remained still.

‘You can go,’ the man repeated, waving his hand this time. ‘Go, go, go!’

I stood up slowly and turned towards the football pitch. ‘Wait!’ he hollered. I stood motionless as a couple of boys grabbed guns from their backs and pointed them at me. I waited for the older rebel’s order to shoot. Instead, he walked in front of me.

‘You must choose a punishment before you leave,’ he said. ‘Like what?’ I mumbled. Tears I could no longer hold back streamed down my face.

‘Which hand do you want to lose first?’ he asked.

The knot in my throat gave way to a scream. ‘No,’ I yelled. I started running, but it was no use. The older rebel caught me, his big arm wrapping around my belly. He dragged me back to the boy rebels and threw me to the ground. Three boys hauled me up by the arms. I was kicking now, screaming, and trying to hit. Gunfire filled the night. ‘Allah, please let one of the bullets stray and hit me in the heart so I may die,’ I prayed.

‘Please, please, please don’t do this to me,’ I begged one of the boys. ‘I am the same age as you. Maybe we can be friends.’

‘We’re not friends,’ the boy scowled, pulling out his machete.

‘If you are going to chop off my hands, please just kill me,’ I begged them.

‘We’re not going to kill you,’ one boy said. ‘We want you to go to the president and show him what we did to you. You won’t be able to vote for him now. Ask the president to give you new hands.’

I didn’t feel any pain. But my legs gave way. I sank to the ground as the boy wiped the blood off the machete and walked away. As my eyelids closed, I saw the rebel boys giving each other high fives. I could hear them laughing. As my mind went dark, I remember asking myself: ‘What is a president?’

When I regained consciousness, I felt a surging pain in my stomach. My injured arms instinctively cradled my abdomen. I rolled around in the earth, on to my knees, and staggered to my feet. Still holding my abdomen, I started to put one foot in front of the other. I wanted to get away, away from here, away from this village.

A sharp, darting pain ran up and down my arms. I was sicker than I’d ever been in my life, but I managed to stumble my way to another village for help, and was eventually taken by truck to the capital city, Freetown, where my wounds were treated in hospital. But as I lay recovering, there was another shock.

‘You’re pregnant.’ I didn’t understand what the female doctor in the white coat was saying. ‘You are going to have a baby. Do you understand?’

‘But there must be a mistake,’ I said. ‘Only women have babies, not girls.’ 

 

Mariatu with her baby Abdul and 'sister' Adamsay at a camp for amputees in Sierra Leone in 2000

After it was explained to me how babies were made, I realised what had happened. Salieu, an older man in my village who had declared that he was going to make me his second wife when I grew up, had grabbed me one day when he knew I was the only one at home, and forced me to have sex.

Afterwards he had said, in a harsh, low voice, ‘Don’t tell anyone.’ I didn’t tell anyone what had happened. I wasn’t sure, for one thing, exactly what it was he had done. Now I knew, and I was going to have his baby. Not that Salieu would ever know. The rebels had shot him in front of me during the raid.

Since I was a baby, I’d lived with my father’s sister Marie and her husband Alie in the small village of Magborou. It was common for children in rural areas to be raised by people other than their birth parents. At the time of the rebel attack, in 1999, we were staying in another village, Manarma, because we’d been told we’d be safer there [the rebel soldiers wanted to overthrow the government which they accused of being corrupt]. I saw two of my cousins, Ibrahim and Mohamed, captured and tied up. Adamsay, Marie’s youngest daughter, who I thought of as a sister, was dragged away by her hair.

‘Goodbye,’ my heart said, as she was taken down the road. I later learned that as many as 100 people were killed that day. Miraculously my three cousins survived, although they’d also had their hands cut off, and we were reunited in Freetown.

One of my proudest moments came when I wrote my name in a workbook with a pencil held between my arms

There was some comfort in knowing that we were all learning to care for ourselves after such a devastating ordeal. We were beginning to feed and wash ourselves, even with our injuries. Using the stumps of my arms covered in bandages, I could even brush my teeth and comb my hair. Later I learned to cook, tie shoelaces, do up zips and twist off lids and bottle tops using just my arms and teeth.

After leaving the hospital, we went to live in a camp for amputees, earning money from begging in the streets, even though I hated every moment of it. On a good day, we could make as much as 10,000 leones (just under £2) by pooling our money.

Marie and Alie, who I’d feared had been killed, had escaped the rebels by hiding in the bush and were now living with us in the big tent we shared. The camp, which was the size of a football stadium, was filthy with litter, and the smell of rubbish, dirty bodies and cooking food was sickening. There were more than 400 of us who didn’t have hands, and at least four times that many people, mostly family members, who had moved there to look after the injured.

When the time came for me to give birth, a female doctor explained that my birth canal was too small. ‘There’s no room for the baby to come out. You’ll need to have an operation called a caesarean.’

The last thing I recall is the doctor sticking a needle into my arm. I had a boy, who I called Abdul. When I went back to begging, I earned more money than my cousins combined if I had him with me. One afternoon, a man dropped 40,000 leones (about £7.50) into my black plastic shopping bag. It was the most money I’d ever earned at one time.

When he was ten months old, Abdul became very sick from malnutrition and, despite hospital treatment, he died. I blamed myself for not loving him enough. My family held a funeral ceremony for him in the camp’s mosque. The imam recited a prayer, and my family asked for blessings. I sat motionless, listening but not really hearing.

When I’d first been in hospital for treatment to my arms, rumours circulated everywhere that there were wealthy people, both in Freetown and in far-off countries, who adopted children who had been injured in the war. About six young people from the camp had moved to the United States, and several others were on a relocation list. But so far no one had shown any interest in me. Then one day I was asked to go to the offices of a social worker called Comfort.

‘A man phoned from Canada,’ she said. ‘His name is Bill, and he wants to find the girl he read about in a newspaper article.’ Comfort handed me a newspaper clipping. It showed a photo of me holding Abdul when he was five months old. It was from an interview I had been asked to do with some foreign journalists by a camp official.

‘This man Bill wants to help you. His family read your story, and they would like to give you money for food and clothes.’

‘Is he taking me to Canada?’ I asked.

‘No. But if you pray for it, maybe he will.’

And, eventually, he did. I flew to Toronto in 2002 and, after a short stay with Bill and his family, I went to live with a Sierra Leonean couple, Kadi and Abou Nabe, who had been living in Canada since before the civil war. When the fighting started, they brought many family members to Toronto to escape the violence.

I shared a room with three girls who were a few years older than me. Each was related to Abou and Kadi, but I couldn’t keep track of exactly how. I just called them all ‘the nieces’.

One night I confided in Abou that my family in Sierra Leone were depending on me to support them. ‘I need to get an education, and then a job right away,’ I told him.

‘You may not have hands, but you still have your mind. And I think you have a very sharp mind. Make the most of what you have and you will make your way in the world,’ said Abou.

Despite his words of encouragement, I was scared to go to school. I would be alone, in a class with strangers. I dreamt of being able to read books and write, but I wondered how I would do it with no hands. I was afraid I’d make a fool of myself. Kadi was the one who took the initiative and enrolled me in an English as a Second Language (ESL) course. ‘When you graduate, you’ll go on to high school. It’s time to get moving, girl!’

My classmates were young Asian women, grandmothers from the Middle East, and men from southern Africa. At first we communicated mostly through gestures, but soon we were saying English words to each other, and within a few months we were forming sentences. One of my proudest moments came when I wrote my name in a workbook with a pencil held between my arms. On a muggy June evening ten months after arriving in Canada, I graduated from my ESL course with a diploma.

When September rolled around, it was time for high school. My tutor was very patient as she taught me cursive writing, with a pencil or pen held between my arms. My teachers gave me extra time to complete tests and examinations. I think I may have failed the first term. But by June, I’d earned Cs across the board.

In the winter of 2004, I was bought a black laptop computer designed for people with disabilities. The mouse was shaped like a big ball, so that I could easily manoeuvre it with my arms. Even though the keyboard was big, it was not easy to master hitting one letter at a time. After my first hour of instruction all I had on my screen was a mismatch of letters and numbers.

That evening I sat and played with my new computer. It took some experimenting, but I finally managed to spell out a complete sentence: ‘My name is Mariatu Kamara. I live in Toronto, Canada, and like it here very much.’

Mariatu, now 23, speaks fluent English and is studying to be a counsellor for abused women and children. She is a Unicef Special Representative for Children in Armed Conflicts and speaks to groups across North America about her experiences. Although she has been fitted with prosthetic hands, she finds it easier to function without them. The civil war in Sierra Leone was declared over

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Jury Recommends Death for Sex Offender Who Raped, Killed 13-Year-Old Girl

 

Saturday, October 31, 2009

PANAMA CITY, Fla. —  A Panhandle jury is recommending to a judge that a registered sex offender be put to death for raping and killing a 13-year-old girl.

The jurors voted 8 to 4 Friday afternoon in favor of death for Matthew Caylor after convicting him on Thursday of killing Melinda Hinson.

The girl's body was discovered by a maid in July 2008 at a Panama City motel where she was living with her family. Caylor confessed to killing her in a videotaped statement played for jurors.

Earlier Friday, Caylor's attorney tried to persuade jurors to let him die in prison while serving a life term. Jurors listened to Caylor's mother who said she and her husband were frequent drug users and that he grew up in a violent and drug-filled home.

The judge will make the final decision

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