When Lambs Become Wolves
Autor Rasul T. Freelainen Limba Engleză Hardback – 17 iun 2026
Preț: 415.40 lei
Preț vechi: 512.83 lei
-19% Precomandă
Puncte Express: 623
Preț estimativ în valută:
73.48€ • 86.15$ • 63.93£
73.48€ • 86.15$ • 63.93£
Carte nepublicată încă
Doresc să fiu notificat când acest titlu va fi disponibil:
Se trimite...
Preluare comenzi: 021 569.72.76
Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780809339969
ISBN-10: 080933996X
Pagini: 264
Ilustrații: 36
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 mm
Greutate: 0.06 kg
Ediția:First Edition
Editura: Southern Illinois University Press
ISBN-10: 080933996X
Pagini: 264
Ilustrații: 36
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 mm
Greutate: 0.06 kg
Ediția:First Edition
Editura: Southern Illinois University Press
V-ar putea interesa
-
ViolatedSara Wilson (nf)Preț: 69.24 lei -
HelplessCathy GlassPreț: 62.26 lei -
Blame Not the WindShirley CooklinPreț: 150.70 lei -
Preț: 60.57 lei -
My Inner Child Wants to Murder MindfullyKarsten DussePreț: 70.60 leiNou -
-24%Preț: 57.52 lei75.49 leiNou -
-25%Preț: 47.20 lei63.29 lei -
-29%Preț: 77.78 lei108.80 lei -
Preț: 108.05 lei -
Liliana's Invincible SummerCristina Rivera Garza-27%Preț: 55.18 lei75.84 lei -
Petty LiesSulmi Bak-29%Preț: 48.24 lei67.75 lei -
Nobody's GirlVirginia Roberts GiuffrePreț: 184.39 lei -
Preț: 75.61 lei -
Monique EscapesÉdouard LouisPreț: 101.69 leiNou -
-28%Preț: 98.29 lei136.69 lei -
The LetterAnn CusackPreț: 68.45 lei -
My GirlAnn CusackPreț: 68.45 lei -
PostmortemCourtney Lund O'NeilPreț: 68.55 lei -
For My BoysClaire ThrossellPreț: 68.44 lei
Notă biografică
Sgt. Rasul T. Freelain (Ret.) served twenty years with the Oak Park Police Department in Illinois. He is certified by C.I.T. (Crisis Intervention Team) International as a coordinator and teaches for the Illinois C.I.T. Training Unit. Currently he is working to bring increased awareness to the problem of child-to-parent violence and abuse (CPVA).
Extras
Chapter 1. “NO!”
“Smoke and flames filled the air as civil unrest continued for a third straight night in St. Louis following the controversial shooting of an unarmed Black man in Ferguson, Missouri. According to the Associated Press, the Missouri State Highway Patrol has assumed police duties in the area following several days of protests. The change comes amid reports of officers with armored vehicles and military-style weapons confronting unarmed protestors...Meanwhile, a former Oak Park resident identified as Sheila von Wiese – widow of famed jazz composer James L. Mack – has been found murdered…”
A jolt of adrenaline rushed through me as I was immediately drawn to the news story playing through the car’s AM radio.
“According to reports, she was murdered in an exclusive resort in Bali, Indonesia. Government officials say two suspects...”
That can’t be right, I told myself as I quickly pulled over and threw the gear shifter into park.
“The first suspect is the victim’s daughter, Heather Mack...”
I struggled to wrap my brain around what I was hearing. It all seemed nonsensical, like mismatched puzzle pieces.
“The second is the daughter’s 21-year-old boyfriend, Tommy Schaefer...”
“Tommy?” I asked in nearly a shriek as I began vigorously shaking my head.
“Both are in custody for their suspected roles in the killing of von Wiese,” the story continued.
The throbbing in the pit of my stomach intensified as the dark news shifted from tragic to unthinkable.
“Disturbing details have emerged...the wealthy socialite was reportedly beaten to death and stuffed into a suitcase before being abandoned in the trunk of a taxi at the St. Regis Hotel in Nusa Dua. According to reports obtained through a Freedom of Information Act request, von Wiese and her daughter had a long and tumultuous history of domestic problems in the Chicago suburb where they once lived. A spokesperson for the Village has indicated that police were repeatedly contacted for domestic problems and other related crimes in a ten-year period. This is a developing story. In other news, Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel...”
I let out an audible gasp as the radio blurred into background noise.
Sitting alone, I began talking to myself as I tried deciphering the madness I had just heard.
“Sheila is...?” I started, unable to finish my sentence.
“That’s crazy. She’s...” I tried again as my words again trailed off.
I paused momentarily before continuing.
“A suitcase? A damned suitcase?” I questioned indignantly.
My family had recently returned from a vacation in Missouri the morning after protests began in Ferguson. My wife and I had also lived in St. Louis more than a decade earlier, and we were deeply troubled by published accounts of the recent killing of Michael Brown.
But the breaking story of Sheila’s bizarre murder hit me like a brick-hard uppercut.
I recalled handling more than a few of the dozens of Mack family domestic violence cases as cold sweat began to soak through the “Freelain/Hewitt Family Reunion 2014” t-shirt I was wearing.
“Damn! She was RIGHT!” I started to say as I was suddenly overcome with outrage and denial.
“NO! NO! NO! NO!” I yelled, slamming my palms against the steering wheel before hitting the radio’s off button.
After crumpling into my seat, I sat silently and alone for over a minute.
When I eventually regained my composure, I looked around and met my own bloodshot eyes in the rearview mirror. I quickly turned from their accusatory gaze.
A trickle of text messages told me that some fellow officers had also learned the shocking news. Then, a quick internet search on my phone confirmed the reality I was not ready to accept. Sheila was dead.
Heather did this! I initially thought.
Heather and... Tommy? I was afraid to ask.
It all seemed unfathomable.
Except that the victim had predicted it.
Since first meeting the Macks more than three years earlier, I had tried virtually everything within my power as a police officer to stop the teenager from hurting her mother. Yet, as the girl’s threats, aggression, and violence spiked over time, it felt like trying to stop a powerful rip current from dragging a helpless swimmer from shore. Despite my natural optimism, I long worried that fellow officers and I had been relegated to the position of armed scribes and second-hand witnesses who documented—but were unable to interrupt—Heather’s pattern of domestic violence.
It was a dangerous cycle that repeated until the bitter end.
Sheila had hoped love would save Heather.
Sadly, it alone couldn’t save either of them.
Objectively, I knew Sheila’s death was not my fault.
Nor was it the fault of other professionals.
Nor that of the victim.
The blame rested squarely at the feet of the killers who took her life.
But the knot in my stomach pointed to questions with no easy answers.
What had triggered the victim’s self-fulfilling prophecy?
When did Heather first decide to kill her mother?
Where did Tommy fit into the tragedy?
Why had Sheila become so vulnerable?
How might professionals have handled things differently?
With a heavy heart, I thought back to the advice and warnings I shared with Sheila, the admonishments and second chances I gave Heather as a detective and arresting officer, and the encouragement and counsel I offered Tommy when he was a teenager.And I reflected on the day a kind and dignified widow first came to the Oak Park Police Station and asked for my help.
[end of excerpt]
“Smoke and flames filled the air as civil unrest continued for a third straight night in St. Louis following the controversial shooting of an unarmed Black man in Ferguson, Missouri. According to the Associated Press, the Missouri State Highway Patrol has assumed police duties in the area following several days of protests. The change comes amid reports of officers with armored vehicles and military-style weapons confronting unarmed protestors...Meanwhile, a former Oak Park resident identified as Sheila von Wiese – widow of famed jazz composer James L. Mack – has been found murdered…”
A jolt of adrenaline rushed through me as I was immediately drawn to the news story playing through the car’s AM radio.
“According to reports, she was murdered in an exclusive resort in Bali, Indonesia. Government officials say two suspects...”
That can’t be right, I told myself as I quickly pulled over and threw the gear shifter into park.
“The first suspect is the victim’s daughter, Heather Mack...”
I struggled to wrap my brain around what I was hearing. It all seemed nonsensical, like mismatched puzzle pieces.
“The second is the daughter’s 21-year-old boyfriend, Tommy Schaefer...”
“Tommy?” I asked in nearly a shriek as I began vigorously shaking my head.
“Both are in custody for their suspected roles in the killing of von Wiese,” the story continued.
The throbbing in the pit of my stomach intensified as the dark news shifted from tragic to unthinkable.
“Disturbing details have emerged...the wealthy socialite was reportedly beaten to death and stuffed into a suitcase before being abandoned in the trunk of a taxi at the St. Regis Hotel in Nusa Dua. According to reports obtained through a Freedom of Information Act request, von Wiese and her daughter had a long and tumultuous history of domestic problems in the Chicago suburb where they once lived. A spokesperson for the Village has indicated that police were repeatedly contacted for domestic problems and other related crimes in a ten-year period. This is a developing story. In other news, Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel...”
I let out an audible gasp as the radio blurred into background noise.
Sitting alone, I began talking to myself as I tried deciphering the madness I had just heard.
“Sheila is...?” I started, unable to finish my sentence.
“That’s crazy. She’s...” I tried again as my words again trailed off.
I paused momentarily before continuing.
“A suitcase? A damned suitcase?” I questioned indignantly.
My family had recently returned from a vacation in Missouri the morning after protests began in Ferguson. My wife and I had also lived in St. Louis more than a decade earlier, and we were deeply troubled by published accounts of the recent killing of Michael Brown.
But the breaking story of Sheila’s bizarre murder hit me like a brick-hard uppercut.
I recalled handling more than a few of the dozens of Mack family domestic violence cases as cold sweat began to soak through the “Freelain/Hewitt Family Reunion 2014” t-shirt I was wearing.
“Damn! She was RIGHT!” I started to say as I was suddenly overcome with outrage and denial.
“NO! NO! NO! NO!” I yelled, slamming my palms against the steering wheel before hitting the radio’s off button.
After crumpling into my seat, I sat silently and alone for over a minute.
When I eventually regained my composure, I looked around and met my own bloodshot eyes in the rearview mirror. I quickly turned from their accusatory gaze.
A trickle of text messages told me that some fellow officers had also learned the shocking news. Then, a quick internet search on my phone confirmed the reality I was not ready to accept. Sheila was dead.
Heather did this! I initially thought.
Heather and... Tommy? I was afraid to ask.
It all seemed unfathomable.
Except that the victim had predicted it.
Since first meeting the Macks more than three years earlier, I had tried virtually everything within my power as a police officer to stop the teenager from hurting her mother. Yet, as the girl’s threats, aggression, and violence spiked over time, it felt like trying to stop a powerful rip current from dragging a helpless swimmer from shore. Despite my natural optimism, I long worried that fellow officers and I had been relegated to the position of armed scribes and second-hand witnesses who documented—but were unable to interrupt—Heather’s pattern of domestic violence.
It was a dangerous cycle that repeated until the bitter end.
Sheila had hoped love would save Heather.
Sadly, it alone couldn’t save either of them.
Objectively, I knew Sheila’s death was not my fault.
Nor was it the fault of other professionals.
Nor that of the victim.
The blame rested squarely at the feet of the killers who took her life.
But the knot in my stomach pointed to questions with no easy answers.
What had triggered the victim’s self-fulfilling prophecy?
When did Heather first decide to kill her mother?
Where did Tommy fit into the tragedy?
Why had Sheila become so vulnerable?
How might professionals have handled things differently?
With a heavy heart, I thought back to the advice and warnings I shared with Sheila, the admonishments and second chances I gave Heather as a detective and arresting officer, and the encouragement and counsel I offered Tommy when he was a teenager.And I reflected on the day a kind and dignified widow first came to the Oak Park Police Station and asked for my help.
[end of excerpt]
Cuprins
Acknowledgments
Foreword
Preface
Introduction
Note on Terminology and Language
Part I
1. No!
2. A Lady in the Lobby
3. Revolving Doors
4. Less than 24 Hours
5. Green Light
6. Ground Zero
7. West Wall
8. Flashing Lights
9. Before
Part II
10. Triage
11. Threat to Self
12. Detention
13. The Nuclear Option
14. Conviction
15. Tombstone Courage
Part III
16. Proof
17. Invasion
18. If Something Isn't Done
19. The Devil You Know
20. Assurances
21. Rising Star
22. More Than Hope
Part IV
23. 86 Calls
24. Wicked Deeds
25. Warning Bells
26. 15 minutes
27. '17 Problems
28. Jeopardy
29. Smear Campaign
30. Guilty
Appendices
Notes
Foreword
Preface
Introduction
Note on Terminology and Language
Part I
1. No!
2. A Lady in the Lobby
3. Revolving Doors
4. Less than 24 Hours
5. Green Light
6. Ground Zero
7. West Wall
8. Flashing Lights
9. Before
Part II
10. Triage
11. Threat to Self
12. Detention
13. The Nuclear Option
14. Conviction
15. Tombstone Courage
Part III
16. Proof
17. Invasion
18. If Something Isn't Done
19. The Devil You Know
20. Assurances
21. Rising Star
22. More Than Hope
Part IV
23. 86 Calls
24. Wicked Deeds
25. Warning Bells
26. 15 minutes
27. '17 Problems
28. Jeopardy
29. Smear Campaign
30. Guilty
Appendices
Notes