Word: convicted
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...poetry as well as fiction, Warren demonstrates in his latest book that age has not diminished the passion he brings to his witnessing of life. The fierceness of nature is here placed side by side with the violence of urban life and the physical frailty of man. A convict in a cell doubles over in pain in "Keep that Morphine Moving, Cap." Death arrives in a cheap motel. A woman is struck by an automobile. All of it is told with a combination of elegant line and colloquial speech that makes each moment vivid and real beyond the pretensions...
...gourmet skills plainly take second place to adeptness as an all-round hood. A "soldier" in the Cosa Nostra for more than 30 years, Valachi has, by Justice Department count, a murder to show for every year. Most recently, on a June morning in 1962, he beat a fellow convict to death with a two-foot length of iron pipe at the U.S. Penitentiary in Atlanta. By then, Valachi was fighting for his own life. He had received the "kiss of death" from his capo (boss) and cellmate Vito Genovese. In the end, Valachi did what the Cosa Nostra presumed...
Still missing at week's end was Krist's accomplice, Ruth Eisemann Schier, 26, a linguist and graduate student at the University of Miami's Marine Science Institute. She met Krist, an escaped convict working at the institute under the alias George Deacon, during a student-faculty cruise to Bermuda in September. He drew her into his scheme. As Krist's estranged wife recalled last week: "Gary doesn't want to lead a mediocre life...
...pass the money to the kidnapers and, on Thursday night, finally succeeded. For twelve hours after the ransom was delivered, the family and the FBI waited in vain for the release of Barbara Jane. Then the FBI issued warrants for the arrest of Gary Steven Krist, 23, an escaped convict from California who had been using the alias of George D. Deacon, and Ruth Eisemann Schier, 26, a green-eyed blonde who was said to be a graduate of the National University of Mexico. A petite 5 ft. 3 in., Miss Schier may have been mistaken...
...press was milling around on the ground floor, and the Secret Service wanted to find a way out for me without running into the reporters. They took me to a private room and locked me up like a convict. They scouted the top floor and finally found an escape route. They brought me down on a freight elevator, then walked me through the kitchen to my limousine. But just as I got through the kitchen, some maid spotted me and let out a whoop. I ducked and hid my face. The last thing I wanted was for someone to start...