- Judy Garland (Dorothy) recorded “…Get Your Gun” released by Sandy Hook records in 1981
- “There’s No Place Like Home” (Wizard of Oz movie) as Sandy Hook actor Gene Rosen’s tagline
- Sandy Hook reference in (The Dark Knight Rises movie)
- Sandy Hook reference in (Dream House movie)
- Sandy Hook ..Party Massacre movie released in 2000 reviewed on 7/20/12 (The Dark Knight Rises shooting)
- Auora=dawn; “The night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming.” - The Dark Knight
- “There’s a storm coming.” - The Dark Knight Rises
- 1997 Hurricane Sandy drill
- Hurricane Sandy: Sandy’s hook
- “Sandy Hook” in “Die Young” by Ke$ha backmasked.
- Sandy Hook: The Classroom
- “You’re not allowed to believe in coincidence anymore.” - James Gordon in The Dark Knight Rises.
- Lil Wayne “My Homies Still” has 12 skeletons in a movie theater 2 days before shooting
- James Holmes, shooter in The Dark Knight Rises screening; Bruce Wayne
- “Connecticut too. We’ll get through ya, ‘cause were New Yorkers” - Adam Sandler at the 12/12/12 Hurricane Sandy benefit concert 2 days before shooting
- Adam Lanza, shooter in Sandy Hook Elementary massacre in Connecticut, Newtown
- Adam Lanza - Gotham City
- Obama holding a bat; Obama=Joker, Batman, The dark knight
- ‘Dark Knight Returns’ from 1986 shows gunman attack movie theater
- Bane in The Dark Knight Rises strikes a football stadium in the Sandy Hook district. Number 322 (Skull and Bones) shown.
- Sandy Hook chorus to sing at Super Bowl football stadium.
- Walter Camp, ”father of American football” was Skull and Bones member.
- The trailer for Scientologist Tom Cruise’s new movie Oblivion shows a football stadium. The “Birthplace of Scientology” is Phoenix, Arizona. The Dark Knight Rises also had a scene where a football field is destroyed. The Phoenix Officer is named James Holmes.
- Super bowl Sunday dark night
CENTENNIAL, Colo. — The movie theater was a blood-soaked nightmare that night in July. Wounded moviegoers screamed for help and tried to crawl for the exits. Bodies lay in the aisles. The floor was a carpet of shell casings, the air stung with the smell of tear gas, and dozens of abandoned cellphones bleated incessantly.
But outside, James E. Holmes stood with eerie calm, his head hidden behind a gas mask and helmet, his hands resting on the roof of his car. He was, police officers recalled here in court on Monday, detached from the chaos he had created moments before. He was sweating heavily underneath a sheath of black body armor. He smelled foul.
“He was very, very relaxed,” said Officer Jason Oviatt of the Aurora Police Department, who apprehended Mr. Holmes behind the theater minutes after the shooting. “It was like there weren’t normal emotional responses. He seemed very detached from it all (Mind controlled).”
A detective who interviewed James Holmes in the hours after the movie theater shootings in Aurora, Colo., testified he saw no reason to obtain a search warrant to test the suspect for possible drug use, despite some unusual behavior from Holmes at police headquarters.
“I saw no indications that he was under the influence of anything,” said Detective Craig Appel during a preliminary hearing for Holmes on Tuesday.
Under cross examination, Appel admitted that one of the officers guarding Holmes in a room at police headquarters saw the suspect try to stick a staple into an electric socket while waiting to be interviewed. In another incident, the same officer saw Holmes moving his hands in a “talking puppet motion” after they were covered by paper bags for evidence reasons.
It was also revealed that Holmes was playing with a Styrofoam cup while at a table, Appel said: “He was just trying to flip the cup on the table.”
Officer Oviatt was one of six police officers to testify here on the first day of a preliminary hearing to determine whether there is enough evidence to try Mr. Holmes, 25, for killing 12 people and wounding dozens more inside the Century 16 movie theater in Aurora, a Denver suburb. An Arapahoe County district judge, William B. Sylvester, will make that decision.
Mr. Holmes faces more than 160 counts of murder and attempted murder.
For victims and their families, the hearing may offer the best, and perhaps only, opportunity to understand how the July 20 shooting unfolded, and to get a glimpse of Mr. Holmes’s actions and mind-set in the weeks and minutes before the attack. A criminal trial — if one ever convenes — remains months away, probably at the end of a long series of legal arguments, including over Mr. Holmes’s mental fitness to stand trial.
On Monday, some of the first police officers at the scene drew a grim and detailed picture of the moments before, during and after the mass shooting, the deadliest in Colorado since a 1999 massacre at Columbine High School.
And for the first time in public, police officers gave a moment-by-moment account of arresting Mr. Holmes, a once-promising student from Southern California who moved here to study neuroscience.
Officer Oviatt said he stumbled upon Mr. Holmes behind the theater, at first believing that the tall, thin man in the gas mask and commando gear was a police officer. He quickly realized he was mistaken, and said he aimed his gun at Mr. Holmes and ordered him to the ground.
As sirens wailed and bloodied, terrified moviegoers streamed out of a midnight screening of “The Dark Knight Rises,” Officer Oviatt said that Mr. Holmes made no attempt to run, to confront the police or to resist them. He raised his hands when ordered to by another officer, lay prone on the ground and glanced around at the lights and sounds piercing the night.
“He just did what he was told,” Officer Oviatt said. “No resistance.”
Fearing there could be other gunmen lurking, Officer Oviatt said he dragged Mr. Holmes into an alcove for trash bins and patted him down, searching for other weapons. The police would find an assault rifle just outside the emergency exit door of Theater 9, and a shotgun inside.
After the police removed layers of Mr. Holmes’s body armor, stripping him to his boxer shorts, they found his wallet and driver’s license and asked whether he lived at the listed address. Mr. Holmes said he did, and then told them he had booby-trapped his apartment with explosives.
Daniel King, a public defender for Mr. Holmes, homed in on observations from the police about Mr. Holmes’s behavior that night. He called attention to the fact that Mr. Holmes was so relaxed and disconnected from his surrounding, and that his eyes were dilated.
James Holmes, the gunman who massacred 12 people and left 58 others wounded in Aurora, Colorado last July 20, has decided he is now a Muslim so he can justify his barbarous assault. One prison source said, “He has brainwashed himself into believing he was on his own personal jihad and that his victims were infidels.” (DELTA programming)
Mr. Holmes’s lawyers have signaled they may call witnesses this week to discuss his mental state. Although Mr. Holmes has not yet filed a plea, his lawyers have said several times that he is mentally ill. Mr. Holmes had seen a psychologist at the University of Colorado, Denver, where he had been a graduate student.
Less than a month before the shooting, after he had dropped out of his neuroscience program, Mr. Holmes sent a text message to a classmate that suggested he believed that he suffered from dysphoric mania, a bipolar condition that combines manic behavior and dark, depressive tendencies. Mr. Holmes warned the classmate to stay away from him “because I am bad news,” the classmate has said.
On Monday, for the first time, the final placid moments before the shooting came to life in video images captured by the theater’s security cameras. As excited teenagers high-five one another and buy popcorn, Mr. Holmes walks into the Century 16 theater, holding the door open for an arriving couple. He retrieves his ticket by scanning his smartphone, dawdles at the popcorn counter for a few moments, and then heads toward Theater 9.
In the next silent video played by prosecutors, theater employees suddenly crane their heads toward something off-screen. Gunshots. They duck behind the ticket counter. Frantic moviegoers fill the screen, racing through the front door and into the night.
Shocked friends say Branislav Milinkovic did not appear distraught before he plunged to his death.
Serbia’s ambassador to NATO was chatting and joking with colleagues in a parking garage at Brussels Airport when he suddenly strolled to a barrier, climbed over and flung himself to the ground below, a diplomat said.
By the time his shocked colleagues reached him, Branislav Milinkovic was dead.
His motives are a mystery. Three diplomats who knew Milinkovic said he did not appear distraught in the hours leading up to his death Tuesday night. He seemed to be going about his regular business, picking up an arriving delegation of six Serbian officials who were due to hold talks with NATO, the alliance that went to war with his country just 13 years ago.
A former author and activist opposed to the authoritarian regime of Serbia’s former strongman Slobodan Milosevic, he was a respected diplomat and leading intellectual, officials said.
The diplomats, who spoke on condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to release details, said they knew of no circumstances — private or professional — that would have prompted him to take his own life.
One of the diplomats described the death to The Associated Press, saying she had spoken to a member of the delegation who had witnessed the leap from the 8- to 10-meter-high (26- to 33-foot-high) platform.
The diplomats all spoke on condition of anonymity because they are not permitted by foreign service regulations to speak publicly to the press.
Speaking in Brussels, Serbia’s Prime Minister Ivica Dacic said that “Belgian police are investigating, but it’s obviously a suicide. It’s hard to figure out the motives or causes.”
The death cast a pall on the second day of a meeting of NATO foreign ministers. Officials said they were shocked by the news of the death of a very popular and well-liked ambassador.
“NATO’s Secretary General Anders Fogh Rasmussen said he was deeply saddened by the tragic death of the Serbian ambassador,” alliance spokeswoman Carmen Romero said. “Milinkovic was a highly respected representative of his country and will be missed at NATO headquarters.”
During the 1990s, Milinkovic was active in the opposition to Milosevic. After he was ousted in 2000, Milinkovic was appointed Serbia’s ambassador to the Organization for Security and Co-Operation in Europe, or OSCE, in Vienna.
He was transferred to NATO as Serbia’s special representative in 2004. Serbia is not a member of the military alliance, but Milinkovic was named ambassador after Belgrade joined NATO’s Partnership for Peace program, which groups neutral states.
The move to join the NATO program had angered Serbian nationalists who are now in power. They have pledged the nation will never join because of its 1999 bombing campaign, during which it forced Milosevic’s forces to withdraw from Serbia’s southern province of Kosovo.
NEW YORK (AP) — Even on “Sesame Street,” where everything is famously A-OK, problems can arise for its residents.
And that includes the Muppets. Cookie Monster grapples with an eating disorder. Oscar the Grouch gets cranky. Mr. Snuffleupagus gets the blues.
But Elmo seemed immune to any of that. Since enjoying his breakout success more than two decades ago, the 3 1/2-year-old red monster has radiated good cheer, love and trilling giggles. No wonder everyone — adults as well as children — adores him.
The key to Elmo is “his innocence, his positiveness and his sweetness,” according to Kevin Clash, the man who created him and once told The Associated Press, “I would love to be totally like Elmo.”
Clash spoke to ABC News “Nightline” last year about his passion for puppets while promoting the documentary “Being Elmo.” “I have Peter Pan syndrome, we call it,” Clash said.
Now Clash has been scandalously separated from Elmo and from “Sesame Street,” the TV series where he reigned behind the scenes for 28 years.
Clash spoke of “personal matters” as the cause of his resignation Tuesday after an unthinkable nine-day stretch that began with an unnamed man in his 20s claiming he had sex with Clash at age 16. That allegation was quickly recanted. But then came another accusation of sexual abuse, and a lawsuit.
That second accuser, a 24-year-old college student named Cecil Singleton, said the actor had engaged in sexual behavior with him when he was 15. He is suing Clash for $5 million.
“I am deeply sorry to be leaving,” said Clash in his parting statement, “and am looking forward to resolving these personal matters privately.”
But privacy may no longer be possible for Clash, the 52-year-old divorced father of a grown daughter who acknowledged last week that he is gay. Singleton’s lawyer, Jeff Herman, said he has been contacted by two other potential victims of Clash and expects additional legal action.
At a news conference Tuesday, Singleton said he and Clash met on a gay chat line and then, for a two-week period, they engaged in sexual contact, though not intercourse. Sex with a person under 17 is a felony in New York if the perpetrator is 21 or older.
Singleton said he didn’t know Clash’s profession until years later, when he Googled the man’s name.
“I was shocked when I found out what he did for a living,” said Singleton.
Now that career has ended for Clash, who, in his dream job as a puppeteer for “Sesame Street,” was assigned a little-used puppet now known as Elmo, then turned him into a star. In the process, Clash won 23 daytime Emmy awards and one prime-time Emmy. He published his 2006 autobiography, “My Life as a Furry Red Monster,” and was the subject of the 2011 documentary “Being Elmo: A Puppeteer’s Journey.”
Elmo overshadowed Big Bird and other “Sesame” Muppets in popularity and screen time, while marginalizing the cast of live actors. Since 1998, he has had his own show-within-a-show on “Sesame Street” in addition to appearances elsewhere in the hour.
He is also a major moneymaker for Sesame Workshop, the New York-based company that produces the show, and for licensees. At his merchandising height in 1996, he inspired the Tickle Me Elmo doll, which became a cultural phenomenon and that Christmas season’s hottest toy.
This year’s Elmo dolls, “LOL Elmo,” which giggles, and “Let’s Rock! Elmo,” which sings and comes with a microphone and drum set, haven’t made any of this year’s hot toy lists. Even so, Elmo toys probably account for one-half to two-thirds of the $75 million in annual sales the “Sesame Street” toy line generates for toy maker Hasbro, estimates BMO Capital Markets analyst Gerrick Johnson.
Johnson said he wasn’t sure how this week’s news might affect sales of Elmo toys this holiday.
“How many people are going to want to explain to their kid why they’re not getting an Elmo?” he asked.
On Tuesday, Hasbro issued a statement saying “We are confident that Elmo will remain an integral part of Sesame Street and that Sesame Street toys will continue to delight children for years to come.”
Despite his resignation, Clash will remain an integral part of “Sesame Street” for the foreseeable future. Taping of season No. 44 will wrap by mid-December and will begin airing next September, according to someone close to the show who spoke on condition of anonymity because the person was not authorized to publicly discuss details of its production. That means new episodes with Clash performing as Elmo will presumably continue well into 2014.
As for who might take over as Elmo, other “Sesame Street” puppeteers were already being trained to serve as Clash’s stand-in, Sesame Workshop said. It’s part of an understudy policy being adopted for all the major Muppet characters.
But no one knows how Elmo will fare going forward. Will the jokes spurred by Clash’s downfall leave a lasting mark on Elmo’s image? Will there be parents who see him tainted by association with the man who brought him to life?
In the wake of a personal tragedy that may still be unfolding, Elmo’s innocence, positiveness and sweetness will be put to the test.
“Being Elmo: A Puppeteer’s Journey” & All-Seeing-Eye symbolism
Steven Unruh is having a hard time convincing anyone that he spent hours talking to Aurora theater shootings suspect James Holmes shortly after his arrest last July. Jail officials say there’s no way that Unruh could have had that kind of access. Yet certain elements of the story — which includes a description that resembles the headbanging routine that sent Holmes to the hospital last week — have been attracting attention from law enforcement and even families of the shooting victims.
What Unruh can prove is that he was booked into the Arapahoe County Sheriff’s Office Detention Facility on drug and theft charges at 6:44 p.m. on July 19 — just hours before the attack in Aurora at a midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises that left twelve dead and dozens wounded. Unruh says he was still in the booking area when officers brought in Holmes, whose head was initially covered with a hood. Although Holmes was put into a cell by himself, Unruh says inmates in the area are able to communicate by shouting through a small gap in the cell doors, which move back and forth on rails.
Unruh says he began talking to Holmes, explaining how poorly child killers are received in prison. Jail staff quickly covered the window in Holmes’ cell door with a tarp, but Unruh says he heard him pounding on the wall with his fists — and then running, slamming his body and his head into the wall. (Unruh described this action in an interview that took place several days before Holmes reportedly engaged in similar headbanging last week.)
But Unruh insists the sporadic conversation continued even after Holmes was moved to another cell in the area. He says that Holmes told him “he felt like he was in a video game” during the shooting, that “he wasn’t on his meds” and “nobody would help him.” He says Holmes also mentioned NLP — presumably, neuro-linguistic programming, a much-scorned and outmoded approach to psychotherapy — and claimed to have been “programmed” to kill (Delta programming) by an evil therapist.
“When he got out to his car, he wasn’t programmed no more,” Unruh says. “It sounded kind of crazy. He was trying to run it by me, basically.”
Unruh has a phone number that he says Holmes asked him to call. (The number connects to the cell phone of a bereavement counselor, who says she has no acquaintance with Holmes or Unruh.) He has a form that indicates James Holmes tried to send him a letter, but it was rejected by jail authorities. (Knight says he has no record of any letter sent by Holmes to Unruh, intercepted or otherwise.) He claims to have received messages from Holmes via other inmates since that night, but he admits he doesn’t know if the sender was actually Holmes.
Still, Unruh’s story seems to have drawn interest in one unlikely quarter. He says Holmes told him he “walked up and down the aisles” of the theater three times before he opened fire, and that detail, if true, might have some bearing on the pending litigation by victims’ families against the theater chain. Unruh has paperwork indicating that he’s been in communication with at least one family member on that point.
Unruh’s story may well prove to be nonsense. Whether it’s his nonsense or Holmes’s own, the lack of answers in the Aurora tragedy has some people looking for whatever answers can be found.