Word: six-year-old
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Just as despicable is Law’s legal defense in a separate case that one six-year-old boy and his parents were “negligent” and therefore contributed to further abuse. The suggestion that a six-year-old could be responsible for his own abuse shows just how low Law is willing to sink to protect himself...
...six-year-old girl lies in a hospital bed as foreign doctors poke at the blistering bruises tracing her body. Baffled, they fill petri dishes with bits of her skin and scribble detailed notes about the sores that flower bright pink and yellow. She can see her little brother next to her, and she holds his hand between their cots. Soon, her brother will die, his breath giving way to a malady humanity has never seen before: the effects of nuclear radiation...
...Muslim families are still living in a row of shops in what was once Poso's commercial district. Adults peep out from behind heavy green metal shutters. Their children are bolder, and a gang of five- or six-year-old boys dressed in black vests and bin Laden T shirts, their heads covered by black balaclavas, race in and out of the grimy front room of the Laskar headquarters repeatedly shouting "Assalamu' alaikum" (may peace be with you) as they wield machetes, 30-cm daggers and loaded shotguns. Their antics draw an abrupt, approving laugh from Ichsan. Obviously the boys...
...traffic across the East was disrupted, is suing Lasseter for $100,000. Delta Airlines, which has not followed suit--yet--claims to have lost up to $8 million. Lasseter, whose attorney calls AirTran's suit "irresponsible," says he was only dashing to the gate to retrieve his six-year-old son, whom he had left with a relative. Next time maybe he'll just drive...
...grandmother’s refrigerator door is covered in yellowing clippings of particularly trite cartoons. I tease her about the prominent display place these somewhat witty drawings have next to the photographs of six-year-old me. I am never tempted toward newspaper clipping myself. There is one cartoon I tore out of the New Yorker and then promptly threw away because I hated it. I remember it anyway. There is a woman standing by the fridge with a carton of ice cream open in her hand. Her husband (or whoever is the balding man in her life) sticks...