Word: knifed
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...kidnapped Oct. 1 from her home in Petaluma, California, has shown up everywhere: on television, on computer networks and on flyers in supermarkets, libraries and hospitals. The explanation for the ubiquity of the girl's image extends beyond a fascination with the brazen nature of the abduction: a knife-wielding bearded stranger intruded on Polly's slumber party. It even transcends the reward offered by actress Winona Ryder, a former Petaluma resident, who pledged $200,000 for information leading to the girl's return...
Weinstein's ordeal began Aug. 4, just seconds after he left the Queens diner where he has breakfast every morning at 7. As Weinstein was getting into his 1988 Saab to drive to his nearby office, a man wielding a knife -- a man he had no opportunity to identify -- forced the door open and pushed him into the passenger's seat. A second man jumped into the back and put a noose around his throat. Blindfolded, Weinstein was driven to a secluded slope underneath the Henry Hudson Parkway, one of the city's main thoroughfares, and forced into the muddy...
...Greg took out a carving knife, walked to the door of his mother's kitchen and called her by her nickname. "Come here, Pooh," he said several times, holding the knife where she could see it. "I thought my mom was possessed by the devil," Greg now recalls. "My plan was to scare the devil out of her, literally." Gloria ran into the bedroom. The Allers began barricading their bedroom door at night. Bob and Greg argued at one point, and Greg kicked his father and threatened to kill him. On Jan. 23 he packed his things and moved...
...know that if I hadn't been able to walk into a pawnshop and buy a handgun as easily as I did, I wouldn't have robbed that bank. That applies to just about everybody in this prison who ever held up anybody. Nobody robs a place with a knife or a can of Mace. I was 19, an eighth-grade dropout. If I'd known that things weren't as helpless as I thought they were, that would have stopped me. I wouldn't have felt so frustrated...
...even our old, prematurely dark-haired President, a man known as the Great Communicator, joined the crowd and pumped iron. In the '90s we are led by a young, prematurely gray-haired fellow who jogs, yes, but most days turns a deaf ear to those who would slow his knife and fork. Call him the Great Sweet Potater...