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Cleophus Cooksey Jr. is a figure defined by a chillingly detached presence, standing approximately 6 feet tall with a lean, athletic frame that aged into a more weathered, 43-year-old exterior by the time of his 2025 sentencing. Throughout the grueling seven-month trial in Judge Mark Brain's courtroom, he often traded his "King Cooksey" rapper persona for a calculated, studious look, donning glasses and suits while maintaining a "forensic ghost" anonymity. His demeanor was a disturbing study in contrast; he remained largely stoic and motionless during the presentation of graphic evidence, yet he stunned onlookers by smiling and laughing during his final sentencing hearing, even as the death penalty was read six times. This unsettling levity, paired with a sharp, articulate defiance in his written correspondence to the court, paints a picture of a man who remained unrepentant and disconnected from the gravity of the eight lives he was convicted of taking.

On the evening of July 4, 2020, while families across Atlanta celebrated Independence Day, an 8-year-old girl named Secoriea Turner was riding in the back of her mother’s SUV, heading home. But the route took them through an "autonomous zone" near a local Wendy's—an area charged with the tension of recent protests following the police shooting of Rayshard Brooks.

When the vehicle encountered a makeshift barricade manned by armed civilians, tragedy struck in seconds. Eight shots were fired into the car, ending the life of a child who dreamed of attending Spelman College.

In this episode, we dive into the chaotic weeks leading up to that night, the failure of city leadership to secure the area, and the five-year journey to justice. We follow the 2025 trial of Julian Conley and the community’s struggle to find peace in the wake of an unthinkable loss.

Blaine Milan enters a room like a storm front—quiet, heavy, and impossible to ignore. He’s the guy who lingers in the back of the class or the corner of the club, hidden behind a mess of dark, effortless curls and a gaze that feels like it’s stripping away your secrets. With a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and a signature leather jacket that’s seen better days, he carries the restless energy of someone who’s always looking for the nearest exit. He doesn't say much, but when he does, his voice is a low, gravelly hum that demands your full attention. Beneath the cold exterior and the "don’t care" attitude, there’s a flicker of something raw and protective, suggesting that if you actually managed to get past his walls, he’d be the most loyal person you’ve ever known.

On a seemingly mundane Monday afternoon in June 2024, the quiet suburb of North Olmsted, Ohio, was shattered by an act of senseless violence that would leave a community in mourning and a nation in shock. Bionca Ellis, a woman with a history of documented mental health struggles, walked into a Volunteers of America thrift store, stole two kitchen knives, and headed next door to a Giant Eagle grocery store. There, she targeted 3-year-old Julian Wood and his mother, Margot, as they were simply walking to their car. In an attack that took less than five seconds, Ellis fatally stabbed the toddler while he sat in the grocery cart and wounded his mother as she desperately tried to shield him. The case became a focal point of intense legal and public scrutiny, especially during Ellis’s court appearances where her unpredictable behavior—including smirking and ignoring judicial questions—contrasted sharply with the gut-wrenching testimony of Julian’s grieving father. Despite a defense centered on a "not guilty by reason of insanity" plea due to her schizophrenia, a jury found her fully accountable, leading to a maximum sentence of life without the possibility of parole.

As the nation tunes in for the College Football National Championship, we look back at a case that shattered a Texas football dynasty. Antonio Armstrong Sr. was a powerhouse on the field—a Texas A&M icon and NFL veteran. But in 2016, the "perfect" life he built with his wife, Dawn, ended in a hail of gunfire inside their own home.

The only people in the house? Their children.

Tonight, we dive into the seven-year legal saga of AJ Armstrong Jr. From three high-stakes trials and "planted" DNA allegations to the chilling 911 call that started it all, we ask: Was AJ a cold-blooded killer hiding behind a varsity smile, or the victim of a botched investigation?

On May 26, 2021, the sun rose over a quiet VTA light rail yard in San Jose, California. It was meant to be an ordinary Wednesday morning for the transit workers keeping the city moving. But by 6:34 AM, the peace was shattered by a hail of gunfire.

In this episode of Strawberry Ink, we piece together the timeline of the deadliest mass shooting in Bay Area history. We explore the warning signs that were missed, the heroic actions of the first responders, and the lives of the nine individuals whose stories were cut tragically short.

Timothy Verrill was a man whose reality was warped by a toxic cocktail of methamphetamines and deep-seated paranoia, leading him to commit a crime that would shatter the peace of rural Farmington, New Hampshire. In January 2017, the lives of Christine Sullivan and Jenna Pellegrini were brutally extinguished in what prosecutors described as a "frenzied" and "cold-blooded" double homicide. Driven by the delusional belief that Jenna was a police informant infiltrating their drug operation, Verrill didn't just kill; he executed a violent purge, stabbing Jenna more than 40 times while she slept and bludgeoning Christine, his supposed friend, before disposing of their bodies beneath a porch. The case became a legal labyrinth, marked by a shocking mistrial and the discovery of evidence "hidden" in the shadows of the drug trade. Verrill’s journey from an agitated drifter to a convicted double-murderer serves as a grim autopsy of a mind lost to the "dark thoughts" of addiction—a man who chose blood over bond when the walls of his criminal life began to close in.

The Staircase Murders center on Michael Peterson, a sophisticated novelist and local politician whose curated life in a Durham mansion shattered in the early hours of December 9, 2001. When he called 911 to report that his wife, Kathleen, had suffered a tragic fall down the stairs, he set in motion a legal saga that would span two decades and expose a labyrinth of "secrets and lies." The prosecution painted a portrait of a cold-blooded killer who bludgeoned his wife with a fireplace "blow poke" after she allegedly discovered his secret double life—a narrative bolstered by the eerie coincidence of another woman in Peterson’s past found dead at the bottom of a staircase years earlier in Germany. From the "Owl Theory" to allegations of corrupted forensic evidence, the case is a chilling study of a man who navigated the justice system with the calculated poise of a storyteller, eventually walking free through a controversial plea while leaving the world to wonder: was he a grieving husband or a master manipulator who perfected the art of the "accidental" death?