Word: rosee
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...action-chaser," a Croatian journalist with years investigating connections between foreign mercenaries and Croatian secret services tells TIME. "PIV was a notorious group: 95% of them had criminal histories, many were part of Nazi and fascist groups, from Germany to Ireland." Rozsa rose to the status of Major and gained a reputation for brashness - before scandal hit in December of 1991. That's when a PIV enlistee named Christian Wurtemburg, a Swiss national, turned up dead - tortured and garroted. British journalist Paul Jenks began investigating Wurtemburg's death and was shot dead as well. (British journalist John Sweeney made...
...trusts its rivals to leave the group's military infrastructure untouched. And the American-supported coalition is busy scaring voters with dire scenarios of what will happen if the Hizballah opposition wins enough seats to form its own government: international sanctions and isolation akin to what happened when Hamas rose to power in Gaza...
...which data is available from the Special Education Expenditure Project, a national study begun in 1999 and funded in part by the U.S. Department of Education. In New York City alone, the number of reimbursement claims by parents who have unilaterally placed their kids in private special education rose from 3,023 to 4,068, and the city's spending on private placements went from $53 million in 2005-2006 to $88.9 million in 2007-2008, after the Second Circuit Court ruled in favor of the families in two similar cases...
...alias "Don Berna," held over the city, suppressing uprisings from other drug gangs. But in May 2008, Don Berna was arrested and extradited to the U.S. and Don Mario sought control over the monopoly held by his rival, ushering in a new wave of violence. Homicide rates in Medellin rose by 32% in 2008, according to the mayor's office...
...investigating to any purpose, I pad from room to room in my bare feet, watching out for broken glass. There’s some vomit in the sink in the main bathroom next to the living room, and a bowl of potpourri spilled into the toilet, floating like rose petals in a duck pond. The shower is running and there are three pairs of sopping pants tangled on the tiled floor. I turn it off, half-thinking I’d actually like to get under the water, but traipsing out and back into the hallway instead, basically right into...