He suspects that she is cheating on him.
With a girl.
now that’s quite a surprise.
at least for him.
others saw it coming
a mile away.
Now they suspect
he is alone.
Why did he say that? Why did he look at me like that? Why did he not look at me like this? Why did he emphasise this and not the other word? Do you think there is another girl?
The men starting creeping towards the door. The man with the fedora hat and stereotypical long jacket already had one hand on the knob. Gunshot. That loud, plosive sound. He caught his breath and said “beretta”. The other man, short, pig nosed looked at him with bewilderment. Now really was not the time for that man to be demonstrating his knowledge about guns. As impressive was the fact that he could identify the source of the gunshot.
The panic, the slight hint of indecision was a very rare emotion that peered out from the eyes under the fedora hat.
One more glance at the short man. One more gun shot. This time in this room and from the gun he really could identify because it had been in his holster a few seconds ago.
I could not but think about this idea that was stuck in my head. He could not be. It just couldn’t be. Still, there were no other suspects. I couldn’t lie to myself – everything was pointing towards this man. Telling me that he, he whom I had trustet so wholeheartedly, had betrayed me and left me alone in the dark, in the cold of my own emotions to die. Slowly. Okay, this was getting a little too gothic for my taste now. Let’s just say it like that: surprisingly, he was an asshole.
the suspects were still not found … the policeman was having a real hard time to catch those responsible for this atrocious murder… who .. who could have done such a thing ???
By the time she’d cut the third one, a friend of 5 years, she thought they might not all be suspects in real betrayal, but a story running on repeat in her head. Tragic business.
The suspects in the murder of Ali Rizvi escaped from police detention last night. NYPD is offering a $20,000 reward for any information that might lead to their arrest. Ali Rizvi, 20 years old was found on a pool of blood last week after an alteracation with his neighbour over an affair.
In this world, everyone suspects everyone else. Noone is free from the torment of being blamed for something completely out of their control. But with paranoia comes the complete belief that someone is plotting against you; you suspect everyone until proven innocent- which is a mean feat in itself. You can’t help this belief so it continues on, a vicious cycle of suspecting and failed proofs.
Sometimes I’m concerned with obviously being a suspect. I’m an innocent person but the police and cameras everywhere just make me feel less safe.
I’d rather be a tad nervous of my neighbor than in this mortifying police state.
I understand–really, I do…why everyone suspects me.
It doesn’t matter how many days I spend, wasting away in this cell, because in their minds, I am never free.
And in my mind, I am always dreaming.
I think of Breaking bad because of all the people who are suspects on that show about drugs since Walts brother is a DEA agent sometimes Walt gets scared that he might be a suspect but he always finds away to get out of it
We were in a line up. She and I weren’t friends, we never had been. But when the time had come we’d proudly stood together to do something, to stand for what was right. This one time collaboration had only gotten us here though. We hadn’t saved anyone. We hadn’t been successful we were just suspects of a crime.
The crime, the perfect case, the perfect suspects.
One man decides to commit to the crime, gets caught…the worst possible thing, is that he was the wrong person the whole time. and maybe, just maybe, the catcher was the perfect suspect.
The suspects all got in line. It just so happened that they got in line in order of height, shortest to tallest. It made me think of those cell phone commercials where they show the bars. i smiled a little at the idea. it was the first time I’d smiled since it happened. Supposedly, one of the men in that line is the one. The man that killed my daughter.
The suspects are all connected by the museum opening. The “John Smith” in the morgue was found in that closet and all the suspects were in that museum the day before it opened. Someone knew something but how do you find that out while still being so new to the squad. Not how I would picture my third week on the job.
the suspects were running towards the window. they’re trying to escape the zombies that attacked them in police station.suddenly,the zombies grabbed one of them and ate him.
She suspects that her new lover is in love with the woman from his previous affair. Usually, she is much less emotionally involved than her partner, but because she fixates on her suspicion, wondering what the woman is like, how she thinks, how she makes love. And she realizes with great disdain that it is now she who is the weaker one, the one more susceptible to heartbreak. This realization did not settle well in her.
The suspects of the case were all lined up in a row. Tom looked across from one end to the other but he couldn’t decide which one to pick. None of these morons look anything like the guy how stole my wallet. Fuck! i didn’t even get a good look at the guy but how they think I can pick any of these guys has got me tossed”. Fuck, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.
I couldn’t fucking believe someone would do that. What trigger had to set off such insanity. Why couldn’t he just point that gun to his head if he really had the itch to use a gun. Why did he have to make so many suffer. Why did he feel it was up to him to insert himself into the now traumatized minds of these poor victims.
I waited in the room with the double sided mirror as each of the suspects came. I watched each person carefully, the way they entered, where they placed their hands, the way their mouths moved to speak. Each and every little motion, and every move was being watched and analyzed by the detectives and myself.
There was once a man who committed crimes beyond your imagination. Many were convicted for his crimes, but never was he caught. Terrible and brutal was his life. He loved to torture his victims.
The suspects were approaching the building from the rear. I called it in. It was an easy and simple and normal. everyone was scum and everyone knew that everyone was scum.
“He suspects something is going on,” I warned her. The elephant in the room needed to talk. He was positively bursting with keeping his own silence. I strode over to him, and addressed him directly, “I have no idea what elephants like to talk about, but I’d love to hear what you have to say.” He fixed his eyes upon me, “I think that you people are petty and mean, but you love. You love unconditionally, and this is why I stay in this room.”
What if you were accused of something you didn’t do? You are at the mall running for the bathroom when the cops catch up with you and accuse you of stealing an item of clothing from Forever 21. You’re a suspect. Did you do it? No. But you’re still a suspect. You were on the wrong place at the wrong time.
the recent suspects of my insomnia are, i dont know what im doing with my life, i have no idea how im gonna move on from the big pile of nothing that my life has been for the last 4 years.
i need inspiration and power of will… i have none.
i dont know if i need help.
Suspects. Maybe one or two or three. How do they know who did it anyway? Why do they always have to blame someone? They always pick the wrong one. The suspect always ends up in jail. The suspect ends imprisoned and maybe he wasn’t the right one.
suspects are the keys to a murder case. without them there would be no investigation, the well would run dry and the crime would go unsolved. god bless the suspects!
Suspects are always a little shady. Sometimes they are really nice people, but sometimes they are actually criminals. When they are criminals, that means they did something wrong and they have to go through court. I don’t really know how they choose one suspect though. When there’s a lineup, how do they choose if the person is the right person or not? That’s why I’m against the death penalty.
The suspects just stander there; their expressions blank. They had no idea what to say. They had no idea what to do, except keep quiet. Thats why they were suspicious, their lips were sealed. Maybe if they opened them and told the truth, this nightmare would be over.
He suspects that she is cheating on him.
With a girl.
now that’s quite a surprise.
at least for him.
others saw it coming
a mile away.
Now they suspect
he is alone.
Why did he say that? Why did he look at me like that? Why did he not look at me like this? Why did he emphasise this and not the other word? Do you think there is another girl?
Suspects. Interesting word isn’t it? Anyone can be suspected of anything. Murder. Lying. Stealing.
The men starting creeping towards the door. The man with the fedora hat and stereotypical long jacket already had one hand on the knob. Gunshot. That loud, plosive sound. He caught his breath and said “beretta”. The other man, short, pig nosed looked at him with bewilderment. Now really was not the time for that man to be demonstrating his knowledge about guns. As impressive was the fact that he could identify the source of the gunshot.
The panic, the slight hint of indecision was a very rare emotion that peered out from the eyes under the fedora hat.
One more glance at the short man. One more gun shot. This time in this room and from the gun he really could identify because it had been in his holster a few seconds ago.
The man stepped out into the cold.
He suspected her name was Beretta..
I could not but think about this idea that was stuck in my head. He could not be. It just couldn’t be. Still, there were no other suspects. I couldn’t lie to myself – everything was pointing towards this man. Telling me that he, he whom I had trustet so wholeheartedly, had betrayed me and left me alone in the dark, in the cold of my own emotions to die. Slowly. Okay, this was getting a little too gothic for my taste now. Let’s just say it like that: surprisingly, he was an asshole.
the suspects were still not found … the policeman was having a real hard time to catch those responsible for this atrocious murder… who .. who could have done such a thing ???
By the time she’d cut the third one, a friend of 5 years, she thought they might not all be suspects in real betrayal, but a story running on repeat in her head. Tragic business.
The suspects in the murder of Ali Rizvi escaped from police detention last night. NYPD is offering a $20,000 reward for any information that might lead to their arrest. Ali Rizvi, 20 years old was found on a pool of blood last week after an alteracation with his neighbour over an affair.
In this world, everyone suspects everyone else. Noone is free from the torment of being blamed for something completely out of their control. But with paranoia comes the complete belief that someone is plotting against you; you suspect everyone until proven innocent- which is a mean feat in itself. You can’t help this belief so it continues on, a vicious cycle of suspecting and failed proofs.
I watched as he continued to fidget and roll the gold coin in and over his finger; beads of sweat covered his brow and my suspicion intensified.
Sometimes I’m concerned with obviously being a suspect. I’m an innocent person but the police and cameras everywhere just make me feel less safe.
I’d rather be a tad nervous of my neighbor than in this mortifying police state.
i suspect that this is gonna be a great day. lots of possible suspects are waiting in line … just dangling… suspended in time
I understand–really, I do…why everyone suspects me.
It doesn’t matter how many days I spend, wasting away in this cell, because in their minds, I am never free.
And in my mind, I am always dreaming.
I think of Breaking bad because of all the people who are suspects on that show about drugs since Walts brother is a DEA agent sometimes Walt gets scared that he might be a suspect but he always finds away to get out of it
We were in a line up. She and I weren’t friends, we never had been. But when the time had come we’d proudly stood together to do something, to stand for what was right. This one time collaboration had only gotten us here though. We hadn’t saved anyone. We hadn’t been successful we were just suspects of a crime.
The crime, the perfect case, the perfect suspects.
One man decides to commit to the crime, gets caught…the worst possible thing, is that he was the wrong person the whole time. and maybe, just maybe, the catcher was the perfect suspect.
They sat on the curb
waiting for an
arrival
by whom they
did not know
The suspects all got in line. It just so happened that they got in line in order of height, shortest to tallest. It made me think of those cell phone commercials where they show the bars. i smiled a little at the idea. it was the first time I’d smiled since it happened. Supposedly, one of the men in that line is the one. The man that killed my daughter.
The suspects are all connected by the museum opening. The “John Smith” in the morgue was found in that closet and all the suspects were in that museum the day before it opened. Someone knew something but how do you find that out while still being so new to the squad. Not how I would picture my third week on the job.
Suspects. They have been suspected of something. Which means they may or not be guilty. Suspects. Crime. Punishment. Questioning. Suspects. Crime.
the suspects were running towards the window. they’re trying to escape the zombies that attacked them in police station.suddenly,the zombies grabbed one of them and ate him.
We suspect that this summer will be very stormy.
The inspector suspected that Dorian Gray killed his friend.
there were many suspects of the crime.
who was the cause?
who was the purpose?
who made this
poor girl
lose her mind?
the suspect was never her,
never her.
but she was the criminal.
She suspects that her new lover is in love with the woman from his previous affair. Usually, she is much less emotionally involved than her partner, but because she fixates on her suspicion, wondering what the woman is like, how she thinks, how she makes love. And she realizes with great disdain that it is now she who is the weaker one, the one more susceptible to heartbreak. This realization did not settle well in her.
The suspects of the case were all lined up in a row. Tom looked across from one end to the other but he couldn’t decide which one to pick. None of these morons look anything like the guy how stole my wallet. Fuck! i didn’t even get a good look at the guy but how they think I can pick any of these guys has got me tossed”. Fuck, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.
I couldn’t fucking believe someone would do that. What trigger had to set off such insanity. Why couldn’t he just point that gun to his head if he really had the itch to use a gun. Why did he have to make so many suffer. Why did he feel it was up to him to insert himself into the now traumatized minds of these poor victims.
I waited in the room with the double sided mirror as each of the suspects came. I watched each person carefully, the way they entered, where they placed their hands, the way their mouths moved to speak. Each and every little motion, and every move was being watched and analyzed by the detectives and myself.
There was once a man who committed crimes beyond your imagination. Many were convicted for his crimes, but never was he caught. Terrible and brutal was his life. He loved to torture his victims.
It is when you realize you consider your self and your alter ego as the suspects that have damaged your life and ur soul
The suspects were approaching the building from the rear. I called it in. It was an easy and simple and normal. everyone was scum and everyone knew that everyone was scum.
“He suspects something is going on,” I warned her. The elephant in the room needed to talk. He was positively bursting with keeping his own silence. I strode over to him, and addressed him directly, “I have no idea what elephants like to talk about, but I’d love to hear what you have to say.” He fixed his eyes upon me, “I think that you people are petty and mean, but you love. You love unconditionally, and this is why I stay in this room.”
Crime. Crime. Crime. All around us. Hate. Hurt. We are consumed by it. We are obstructed, instructed.
What if you were accused of something you didn’t do? You are at the mall running for the bathroom when the cops catch up with you and accuse you of stealing an item of clothing from Forever 21. You’re a suspect. Did you do it? No. But you’re still a suspect. You were on the wrong place at the wrong time.
the recent suspects of my insomnia are, i dont know what im doing with my life, i have no idea how im gonna move on from the big pile of nothing that my life has been for the last 4 years.
i need inspiration and power of will… i have none.
i dont know if i need help.
Suspects. Maybe one or two or three. How do they know who did it anyway? Why do they always have to blame someone? They always pick the wrong one. The suspect always ends up in jail. The suspect ends imprisoned and maybe he wasn’t the right one.
suspects are the keys to a murder case. without them there would be no investigation, the well would run dry and the crime would go unsolved. god bless the suspects!
These are the people who we think might have done the crime.We think one of them could be guilty.
The police keeps a close watch on them.
Suspects are always a little shady. Sometimes they are really nice people, but sometimes they are actually criminals. When they are criminals, that means they did something wrong and they have to go through court. I don’t really know how they choose one suspect though. When there’s a lineup, how do they choose if the person is the right person or not? That’s why I’m against the death penalty.
The suspects just stander there; their expressions blank. They had no idea what to say. They had no idea what to do, except keep quiet. Thats why they were suspicious, their lips were sealed. Maybe if they opened them and told the truth, this nightmare would be over.