Showing results for "A Confession" in Psychological

Late one night a man walks into the luxurious home of disgraced banker Harry McNamara and his wife, Julie. The man launches an unspeakably brutal attack on Harry as a horror-struck Julie watches, frozen by fear. Just an hour later the attacker, JP Carney, has handed himself in to the police. He confesses to beating Harry to death, but JP claims that the assault was not premeditated and that he didn't know the identity of his victim.

Late one night, a man walks into the luxurious home of disgraced banker Harry McNamara and his wife Julie. And when the man launches an unspeakably brutal attack on Harry, a horror-struck Julie, frozen by fear, watches her husband die. Just one hour later, the attacker, J. P. Carney, hands himself into the police and confesses to beating Harry to death. But he also claims that the assault was not premeditated and that he didn’t know the identity of his victim.

I should never have gone to her house. But I was desperate to ask her some questions about that night. About what she saw when Joe fell from the bridge. All I wanted was some honesty, for someone else to have seen what I saw. I never meant to hurt her. To push her. As she lay at the bottom of the stairs, blood pooling around her head, I knew it was the end for me too. I kept expecting the knock on the door, the police, the handcuffs. But it never came. On the news, they are reporting someone has come forward and confessed to her murder. But that can't be true. Because her killer is me.

A house on a quiet street on the south side of Glasgow. Neat, terraced homes with manicured lawns and pruned trees. Not the sort of place that reeks of decay or where dead bluebottles pile up on a windowsill. When the police break in, there’s a surprise in store for them. They find Julie Campbell’s decaying body at her desk, her laptop open beside her. She’s a well-liked, respectable woman. On the laptop is a confession – to five murders.

My name is Jack Steen, and for those who arrive on my 'death' ward at the Asylum, I'm the last face many will see before they die. I am the night nurse at an Asylum for the Criminally Insane, and most of my patients know me as their Angel of Death. I know them as mass murderers, rapists, and serial killers - among other things. Here's what happens: they come on my floor, they give me their deathbed confession, and I help to make their death less painful. There's a catch, though: I want the real story, the one they haven't told anyone else.

When Father Henry McGrath hears a confession that sends a cold chill throughout his body, he’s unsure what to do. To divulge the private confession would violate holy canon law. When he refuses to go to the police, people begin to die, and the priest becomes the prime suspect. Elizabeth Monroe, a college professor who teaches forensic psychology, doesn’t believe the elder priest fits the killer’s profile. Elizabeth discovers a frightening thread woven within each killing - a thread that began 30 years ago.

Through generations, few murders have captured the imagination in the way the Borden Axe Murders have. The gruesome killings, committed in broad daylight, in an occupied house, while leaving no conclusive evidence linking to the killer or motive, have baffled everyone. The brutality of the crimes, where nothing was taken, suggests a crime of intense passion that could only have been fueled by either hatred or love, or perhaps both.

My name is Jack Steen, and for those who arrive on my death ward at the asylum, I'm the last face many will see before they die. I am the night nurse at the Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Most of my patients are serial killers and mass murderers, and they know me as the Angel of Death. When they come onto my floor, I offer a deal: tell me their story. Their "untold" story that hasn't been read about in the news, sensationalized by media, or cataloged in a ridiculous number of academic papers.

Journalist Ellie Duncan has spent years chasing stories, but nothing could have prepared her for the anonymous letter that lands on her desk one ordinary afternoon. The letter is a chilling confession, claiming responsibility for a series of unsolved murders that have haunted the city for years. What starts as Ellie’s opportunity for a career-defining story quickly spirals into something far more dangerous as she begins to dig deeper.

Mr. Anderson did something bad to one of our friends. Something despicable. So the five of us, high school seniors, tried to kill him. We failed. Now he’s back to finish the game we started ten years ago. It’s the class reunion from your worst nightmare....

I ask you: How do you reconcile a man who is capable of deep, tender love (because I've felt it), a man, who - by public standards - is a health reformer, assistant to the future British prime minister, and the son-in-law of a wealthy industrialist, but who, when the moment overtakes him, kills women? I don't know what to make of it myself, but that's me. I've been told I have a philosopher's mind, that I'm ambitious and can do anything I set my mind to - but sometimes my sadomasochistic tendencies get the better of me.