I had no idea about this
Patrick Clancy ran the Boston Marathon about 15 months after the deaths of his three children Cora, Dawson, and Callan.
He ran with the Miles for Miracles team supporting Boston Children’s Hospital, where his youngest son had been treated, and raised more than $72,000 for families in need.
He dedicated the race to their memory, wearing Cora’s hair bow plus an armband and bracelet for Dawson and Callan.
The people attacking this man need help.
The gender reveal announced a baby girl.
Then her mother took chemical abortion pills on camera after finding out she was pregnant with a girl.
Absolutely diabolical.
Feminists tell us every day that girls deserve to be protected from violence and discrimination. But abortion makes it possible to kill a preborn girl simply because she is a girl.
Where is the outrage for HER?
There is NOTHING pro-woman about abortion.
Lindsay Clancy did not plan her children’s murders the day she did it.
She started laying the groundwork for a trial 5 months prior. How do I know? The evidence is clear if you look through a nurse’s eyes.
As an RN, the first thing we’re taught is that “if you didn’t document it, it didn’t happen” in regards to patient care. Lindsay was an L&D nurse. She heard that line in school and on every unit she ever worked.
Callan was only a few months old when she began “seeking treatment”. She told doctors she was depressed and anxious. She did not tell them she was suicidal or homicidal. She knew exactly what those words do. One statement of intent to harm herself or the kids and she is in a locked unit. If they even suspected she wanted to hurt anyone, it would have unleashed a chain reaction that would prevent her from completing her plan. She wanted freedom and she knew just what lines not to cross to reach that goal.
What she did do was write it down. Diary entries. Texts. Conversations with her husband and her mother. Thoughts of harming herself and the children. That paper trail exists for a reason. It is the documentation she knew a future jury would see.
For months the pattern held: disclose the dark thoughts to family and to a journal. Minimize or deny them to the people who could actually help.
Cycle through providers. We call that “doctor shopping” in the medical world and it’s a clear indicator of someone who wants specific medicines or is trying to avoid coordination between doctors. She KNEW the system and exactly how to use it.
Collect prescriptions. Zoloft, Prozac, Seroquel, Valium, Klonopin, Ativan, Lamictal, amitriptyline—thirteen medications, more than thirty prescriptions. A nurse knows which side effects to report to get a med changed or dose adjusted. The list itself became the evidence she wanted. We don’t know if she ever took any of them except on the day of the crime.
As a mom, if I were having actual thoughts of hurting my kids, I’d be the first one screaming it to every doctor, every nurse. I’d make sure I was locked away where I couldn’t actually hurt them. But not Lindsay. She did all she could to not be locked away.
When the Women & Infants postpartum program discharged her after one day because she didn’t fit the criteria, the calendar was not on her side. Callan was eight months old. The cleanest “postpartum psychosis” window was already gone. She had to execute sooner rather than later.
She planned it to the minute. As a nurse, she knew exactly how long it would take to strangle each child—about six minutes. She sent her husband on errands that would keep him out of the house long enough to kill all three and stage what was supposed to look like a suicide attempt.
Her medical education ensured she knew EXACTLY how deep and what direction to cut her wrists to ensure she wouldn’t bleed out. She knew EXACTLY how deep and where to cut her neck to avoid hitting the carotid arteries, the jugular veins, or compromise her airway. She even knew jumping out a 2nd story window wouldn’t be fatal but would look dramatic to a future jury. Every cut, every decision was calculated, cold, and with the medical training to execute the plan flawlessly (the injuries she sustained were a miscalculation from landing wrong, not the fall itself).
Lindsay Clancy is not a woman who “snapped with no warning.” or even one who was failed by her family and the healthcare system. She is a woman who spent months building a file and setting the stage so she could blame her crime on those very people while she could live out the childless life she dreamed of living.
@PrimeiroFront Não pela vida dela, mas pelas pessoas inocentes que ela poderia envolver em um acidente por causa da "birra" dela, precisa ter uma punição isso daí
On the morning of September 11, 2001, Roselle, a calm, golden‑furred guide dog, rode the elevator up to the 78th floor of the North Tower with her owner, Michael Hingson. To everyone else, it was just another Tuesday. To Roselle, it was a job: stay close, stay steady, keep her human safe.
When the first plane hit, the entire building lurched like a ship struck by a wave. Lights flickered. Ceilings cracked. Papers rained down like snow. People screamed. But Roselle didn’t. She simply pressed her body against Michael’s leg, a silent message: I’m here. Follow me.
Smoke began to fill the hallway. The air tasted like burning metal. Sirens wailed from every direction. Yet Roselle walked forward with the same steady pace she used every day, guiding Michael to the stairwell.
Behind them, dozens of terrified people followed her tail like a beacon. Step by step, floor by floor, she led them downward through the choking darkness. The stairwell shook. The heat intensified. But Roselle never sped up, never panicked, never once broke her rhythm. She knew that if she stayed calm, her human would too.
Somewhere around the 30th floor, a woman froze, sobbing, unable to move. Roselle stopped. She nudged the woman gently, leaning her warm body against her leg until her breathing slowed. Only when the woman whispered, “Okay… okay,” did Roselle continue the descent.
It took nearly an hour to reach the lobby. Firefighters shouted for everyone to run. The tower groaned above them. Roselle guided Michael through the chaos, out into the blinding sunlight, and down the street, refusing to stop until she sensed they were finally safe.
Minutes later, the North Tower collapsed.
Roselle didn’t know she had just saved her owner’s life. She didn’t know she had led more than a dozen people to safety. She didn’t know she had become a symbol of courage around the world.
She only knew one thing: her human was alive, and she had done her job.
Most people know Roselle guided her blind owner down 78 floors of the North Tower, but very few know what happened after they escaped. As the tower collapsed behind them, a massive cloud of ash and debris roared through the streets like a tidal wave. Michael couldn’t see it coming, but Roselle could. Instead of panicking, she leaned her entire body into him and pulled forward with absolute determination, guiding him through a darkness so thick he couldn’t breathe or hear. Even as the ground shook and people screamed around them, Roselle never once broke her pace. Her training didn’t tell her what to do, her loyalty did.
#archaeohistories
@MatheusLaiola Pareceu estar sem acreditar, nunca vou entender uma pessoa que pega um animal pra cuidar e desfia ele desse forma, só pode ser um tipo de psicopatia