This year my dad got an air fryer for Christmas. My entire family has been intrigued by the appliance ever since they got really popular a couple of years back, and luckily my dad has no problem sharing his gift.
I’ve been trying to find different things to make using the air fryer ever since. While scrolling through an article with tons of recipes I encountered one for some churros. I’ve honestly never had a churro before, so I decided it would be fun to attempt to make some.
The process ended up having a lot more steps than I originally assumed. In order to make the dough I boiled some ingredients, added flour, put the ingredients in a bowl and added more ingredients. Next I needed to pipe the dough into the right shape. I definitely do not have any piping bags or any star shaped piping tips, so I decided to try putting the dough into a plastic bag with a snipped corner. This worked surprisingly well, meaning it was time to move to the next step and chill the dough for an hour before putting the pieces in the fryer.
After an hour passed I began to fry the dough. Meanwhile, I mixed some sugar and cinnamon in a bowl that I would later dust them with. When I began to put the warm churros in the sugar I noticed that the sugar was not sticking. To fix this I sprayed the churros with vegetable oil first. I’m not sure if that was something I was supposed to do, but it worked!
After a process that took a couple hours my churros were finally finished! I was excited to try them myself and for my family to try them. I took a large bite of one. I was definitely surprised by the taste, but it was really good! My dad and brother tried some and absolutely loved them.
Learning a new recipe like this was a lot more work than I thought it would be, but I’m proud of the results. I also feel as though I’ve gained skills not only in cooking, but also with the air fryer!
I was really happy to see how much my family enjoyed the snack. Ever since they’ve been asking for me to make them again, and I definitely will!
My parents have always placed an emphasis on making handmade cards. While this sounds nice, I’ve always dreaded birthdays and holidays because of the extra task.
Fairly recently I’ve decided to extend this gift to a few of my close friends. I was surprised by their reactions to my homemade cards, because I’ve always grown up with them from my siblings. But to other people, they can really mean a lot.
Despite the amount of work that I’ve allowed to build up (including an essay from Mr. McCormick that I still don’t know it I’m going to finish), I reached out Mary and John with the idea that we could create some cards for our entire IB class. We all had to adjust our schedule in order to work together.
Not only did this test my ability to get a lot of work done in a small amount of time, but this also forced me to work up the nerve to drive myself (in this case) to the library. This is a big deal to me because of how anxiety inducing driving is for me, but back to the cards.
John and I were able to go to the library on the 12th. Mary was busy, but she made an effort to make some cards at home. We arrived at around 10:15 am and entered a private room to get to work. We made a list of all of the people we had to make cards for and divided them equally among us. Getting started was somewhat difficult because we didn’t know where to begin.
It ended up taking over an hour for each card. We wanted to make each one special and personalized. While I based the outside of mine on different memorizes with each person John decided to draw a special plant for everyone. We even took the time to write personalized messages inside each one.
We didn’t finish until around 3 pm, five hours after originally getting to the library. Not only did we gain some artistic skill, we also gained some penmanship skill and writing skill.
We haven’t delivered any of the cards yet, but I hope everyone likes them. I’m left to ponder the power and ability a personal gift and words have. I truly believe they will be able to positively impact people, even if that just means making someone’s day a little bit better.
I’ve never been super feminine, or a “girly girl”. This fact has always set me apart from my mother and sister. While I’ve always been interested in the arts, I’ve never felt creative enough to execute any of my ideas.
In the past couple of months my sister has begun to get her nails done professionally. This is after years of painting her nails herself. I’ve found her nails particularly beautiful, and I wanted to have elegant nails of my own.
I don’t currently have a job or a flow of income, so going to the salon is not an option. As a result, I’ve decided to turn to doing my own nails.
My hands started off very shaky. I could barely paint a plain color without getting nail polish everywhere. I got very ambitious very quickly. The second time I painted my nails I decided to try to do some nail. I took my time coming up with a different design for each nail. On my pinky I would do some clouds. On my ring finger I would try a rainbow. On my middle finger I would do a heart. On my pointer finger I would do some stars. Finally, on my thumb I would do a smiley face. Doing my left hand was fairly easy and surprisingly fun. Doing my right hand was a different story. I’m right handed, so I found it very difficult to try to make small designs with my left hand. I decided to paint my right hand with various colors and instead wrote a letter on each nail. When put together it would read, “HOPE.” I didn’t realize I needed more hope to actually do this. I ended up taking hours painting and removing the polish on these nails over and over until I felt satisfied.
I was surprised with the results, and I was inspired to continue painting my nails. The next week I wanted to do something a bit less flashy. Originally, I wanted to try doing nail art with cow print. This plan was spoiled when I realized I didn’t have any white nail polish that would work. Instead, I did the design on a iridescent color. This looked better than I imagined and I took a significantly smaller amount of time. The right hand was still difficult, however, the results were much less sloppy.
Monday of this week I decided to paint my nails again. I wanted to do something simple, so I did a bit of googling to see how I could paint a French manicure on my nails at home. I was reminded I still didn’t have white nail polish, so I decided I would do pastel colors at the end of each nail. In order to achieve the look I used Avery reinforcement labels. Once again, I felt as though I improved.
I’m currently painting my nails again. The Monday design was temporary, so I’m coming up with something I can wear when I return to school. So far I’m not sure what I’m going for, and that’s okay. I feel as though my nails look better when I relax and come up with it as I go. I’ve used a periwinkle color on three of my five fingers and I’m going to attempt to use a sponge to create an interesting look with two colors. I was originally planning on it creating an ombre affect, however, when I tried it for the first time it didn’t exactly work. The sponge was still wet from when I washed it off and it created a weird look, but I actually liked it. I took the nail polish off and repainted my nail so I could try to make it look better.
Each week I’ve been faced with a new mountain to climb as I try to satisfy my own wants, but I’ve enjoyed the challenge. I feel accomplished seeing the end product and how much I improve. I’m planning on continuing to paint my nails, at least for now. Maybe I can give an update on my progress in the future, including the product of what I’ve made today. But for now, I’ll leave you with some pictures displaying the growth of my new skill.
On October 5 of this year I was called out of my first period biology class to the library. I got pretty nervous because it’s rare I get called somewhere during the school day, unless I get checked out. I made my way to the media center and I was pleasantly informed that I had been nominated for the Governor’s Honors Program in the area of fine arts.
While this was exciting news, I also felt a sudden wave of pressure and anxiety. I had an interview coming up in a couple weeks and I needed to prepare myself for the possible questions I could face and also for the area specific aspect. For me, that would mean having artwork ready to show.
The first task I was faced with was my application. I was foolish to believe it wouldn’t take too much time. I ended up taking a couple hours answering all of the questions to the best of my ability and put all of my worries behind me. However, that was until the night before the interview. I prepared all of my artwork as well as my outfit for the next day. I was left to wonder how important visual appearance is in such a process.
My thoughts may be swayed due to the nature of my interview area, but I feel as though my ability to criticize the focus on visuals is still valid. How does a fancy dress prove that I am a valuable artist? I’ve come to understand that dressing “professionally” is important, but I think it may be too important as of now.
As it goes for my art, most of my worries came from the way my art looked. I felt humiliated and low because I was self aware. I knew my art wasn’t objectively “good”. This was hard because of the fact that I knew there was a good chance I wouldn’t move forward because of the way my art looked, despite how passionate I am about the area.
After the interview I beat myself down. I told myself that there was no chance I could move forward. I told myself I should’ve been more talented. I told myself that I failed, but I didn’t.
On November 11, I was once again called out of class. Despite the fact that I had a hunch about what I would be told, I was extremely nervous. I sat down in the library and played with my fingers while listening to the counselor. My stomach flipped when she informed the group that she would be announcing who went through. I was preparing to be humiliated. I felt like the entire group would notice that I didn’t advance and I was mentally shaking my head at the thought of the walk of shame I would have to take. My stomach flipped again when she announced my name as one of the top ten.
Since that day I’ve been filled with gratitude for the judges, and I’ve also been to ponder about all of the different aspects of the interview. I’m still pleased that the judges saw something in me (even if I still don’t know what that something is). I’m hoping they saw my dedication to art and my excitement surrounding it.
Maybe I’m really underestimating the value of my art. Maybe I’m being too critical of society. Maybe the other nominees really struggled. I don’t know. All I know is that my view of the interview process has changed. I also feel as though I’ve gained some skill in speaking.
I’m nervous about the rest of the process that is coming up, but I hope to continue to grow and learn.
It’s pretty well known that cats feel satisfaction when killing animals and then presenting them to their owners. They see it as an eerie gift, a sacrifice to show the people they love most that they’re doing good.
My cat loves doing this. At least once a month she brings something to our porch in an effort to please us (crazily enough she brought a mouse as I was organizing my thoughts for this). However, I can’t think of a single time she has actually brought a poor critter to us already dead.
The first time this happened she brought a baby bunny. When I first saw it, I was shocked because I had never seen such an animal so close with my own eyes. My brother and I ran out to the porch to pick up the small creature before my cat could do any additional damage. I felt horrible. The bunny was frozen, obviously in shock. My brother looked at me and asked, “What do we do?”
I was in the same emotional state that he was in. I just sighed, “I don’t know.”
My dad joined us with a simple solution of throwing the animal back into the woods and letting nature run its course. We couldn’t let ourselves do this. We both knew that if we put the bunny into nature it would die throughout the course of the night. My brother insisted on taking the bunny in and making an attempt to nurse it back to life.
I was put into an ethical dilemma.
In such a situation should we as humans do the best we can with the resources we have, or are we responsible to return what belongs to nature to its home, knowing it most likely will not survive?
I made a promise to myself that I would do the best I could at helping the bunny, and even if it didn’t work out I could sleep well knowing that I tried.
My brother and I went to my room with the wild rabbit. He held it while I assembled a habitat as fast as I could using one of my old hamster cages.
We did a bit of research regarding what food the bunny would/should eat, and ended up cutting up some vegetables that the internet said would be fine. The stubborn thing would not eat. It hardly moved. After trying for a couple hours, we finally got it to nibble on a piece of celery, and even if it wasn’t much, we felt good enough.
It was already pretty late in the night, so we decided to put the cage in my brother’s room and leave it alone. He would keep a lookout throughout the night, and in the morning we would make an attempt to set the rabbit free.
. . .
After morning came my brother barged in my room. He was absolutely ecstatic. The bunny was doing amazing. It was hopping around and eating just as one would expect from an animal of its type. My brother and I felt as though it was ready to be released.
The second we put the bunny down it sprinted off into the woods. I felt amazing. I felt like I did a good job. I felt like I saved the bunny.
Come nightfall my cat present us another prize: the exact same bunny from before.
My heart dropped to my chest. The bunny was in the same state as it was before we took it in. Once again my brother and I ran out to save it from my cat. This time we decided to take the bunny somewhere my cat wouldn’t find it. With the permission of my neighbor we placed the bunny in his yard.
I felt good with this decision after seeing how hyper the bunny got the night before after some time to calm down. I didn’t feel as good when my neighbor called my dad ten minutes later to tell us he put the bunny in his trash can because it didn’t move.
At the time I felt heartbroken and I wished I never entered the situation to begin with, but now that some time has passed I’ve been able to reflect on what happened.
I was put into a difficult position and I had to make a decision. If I was asked before I would say that there wasn’t a right answer because the world is a cruel place, but now I feel as though there wasn’t a right answer because outside forces intruded and changed the affects.
While I still feel as though there is no right answer I realize that I wasn’t in a position where I could nurse the bunny. I didn’t have the materials nor the knowledge required to properly help. However, even if I did I certainly would not plan on keeping the bunny long term, so I would fear the consequences of desensitizing the animal of the requirements of life when living in the wild.
Every time my cat brings something to the porch I’m faced with the same dilemma from when I first saw the bunny.
Should we as humans do the best we can with the resources we have, or are we responsible to return what belongs to nature to its home, knowing it most likely will not survive?
I don’t know.
While I’ve chosen the former every time since, I accept that it is most likely due to the fact that I know I’m not prepared for the task that I have an opportunity to take on. I realize that through simply making such a decision we as humans can affect the course of nature either way.
To this day I strongly believe the bunny would have been fine and that my neighbor judged too quickly (I don’t understand why he put the animal in the trash can though), so thanks a lot Dale, but I can understand that he, too, made a decision, a decision that affected the course of nature.
PICS/VIDS
Check out my vlog of the experience on this page (SO sorry I don’t have an easier way to link it! Turns out you have to have premium to add videos to a post..)
Ever since I was little music has been a big part of my life.
My mom commonly recalls times from my infancy where music, more specifically The Wiggles, seemed to be the only thing that would calm me. As I got a little older my taste fell into the hands of my parents. I have numerous memories of singing in the car or in my room, and at the time I believed I was the next child prodigy that would eventually rise to fame.
Many iPods, boybands, and years later I finally began to explore music that was unique to me.
I began my deep dive into BTS in the beginning of 2017. My love grew an indescribable amount over the summer, and I was excited to go into the following school year with such an exciting new interest. Based on the backlash I received from my own family, I should have been prepared for what I would get from everyone at school. For the past couple of years I’ve received countless comments that are homophobic, racist, and overwhelmingly xenophobic.
I’ve never understood any of these remarks, because I believe music is universal.
Even if a language barrier exists, the music itself carries a language we all can understand. Just through listening you can feel the emotion and part of the power that the artist is trying to convey.
Music can bring us together in our toughest moments, or our happiest moments. We use music to celebrate as well as to share our feelings in a moment of defeat. We put an emphasis on choosing music to play at funerals, weddings, or other services because we feel as though it can successfully embody a human being. The soundtrack chosen can make or break a movie because we itch for a composition that can symbolize the scenes we are watching play out.
Whether we directly realize it or not, music is the love language of human kind.
When Caro and I stay up to watch BTS concerts (which we’ve spent upwards of 100 hours doing), we watch the group travel across the world. We constantly make jokes about the ways in which the different crowds react and enjoy themselves. Each and every crowd represents a different country, a different culture, that has been united by music. The fans in South Korea who memorize fan chants to sing back to the them, the fans in Brazil who display various lights and signs and keep the energy at its max the entire duration, and the fans in Saudi Arabia who scream their hearts out so everyone in the surrounding city can hear them are all brought together for the music. A vast majority of the attendees don’t speak Korean, yet they understand, spread, and celebrate messages regarding the meaning of youthfulness, understanding who you are and the impact society has on that, speaking yourself, and loving yourself.
The concepts of concerts themselves are notable. It’s so common to find artists or their fans bragging about world tours that we are somewhat immune to the greatness that one needs in order to have that accomplishment. We don’t acknowledge the power that music holds for individuals to have a career that is built on traveling the world and spreading messages through it as a medium.
Music is a big part of my life.
Everyday I make an effort to listen to music and reflect on what it means to me and what message I should be taking from what I’m listening to, regardless of what language it’s in. I believe that the music doesn’t rely on what country you’re from, what you look like, what language you speak, and how you identify as a person, because music is universal.
El otro día mi maestra de español describió una tarea de comida de otros países. Yo tengo una amiga de Guatemala, así que quería hacer mi tarea en una comida de Guatemala. Yo pregunté, “¿Que es el plato nacional de Guatemala?”
Ella respondió muy rápido, “Oh! Chow mein!”
Me reí y dijo, “¡Chow mein es de China!”
Mientras eso sigue siendo cierto, Chow mein es muy popular en Guatemala y muchas personas creen el plato es el plato nacional de Guatemala.
¿Quien hubiera sabido?
Chow mein/chau mein (a menudo pronunciado como “chow ming”) es una comida muy popular de China. El plato fue traído a Guatemala en el siglo 19 porque personas de China vino a Guatemala para trabajo. Existen dos teorías diferentes sobre la propagación del plato. Uno de los teorías propone que los inmigrantes de China ingresaron al comercio de ropa y luego exploraron la industria alimentaria. Como resultado, chow mein se popularizó en Guatemala. La otra teoría es que los inmigrantes se hicieron ferroviarios y difundieron el plato por las ferias del pueblo. Durante este tiempo el plato estaba una comida exótico para ocasiones especial, para ahora el plato es perfecto para todos ocasiones.
El plato está servido de muchas maneras. Por ejemplo, chow mein se puede comer en una tostada o con ketchup. Un receta de Iliana Yessel utiliza los siguientes ingredientes:
Pasta de chow mein
1 libra de pollo, cortado en pequeños pedazos
1 zanahoria mediana, cortada en tiras
1 chile pimiento verde , cortado en tiras
1 chile pimiento rojo, cortado en tiras
1 güisquil , cortado en tiras
1 apio, picado en tiras
2 ajos
1 cebolla cortada en tiras
Aceite de oliva
1/2 taza de soya
Sal y pimienta negra, al gusto
¡No importa cómo te guste chow mein, es una comida deliciosa para todos ocasiones!
Una caja de chow meinChow mein en una tostadaDos mujeres muy amable en un restaurante con chow mein
Every morning, for around 180 days a year, I wake up to the sound of my alarm set for 5:30 A.M. I get dressed, maybe drink a cup of coffee, and mentally prepare myself to go to school.
Some days I end up a bit moodier than others. I ask myself, “Why do I even bother?” Of course, I quickly answer my own question, “To learn!” But, what does that even mean?
What is learning? Why do we learn? What does learning look like?
I could continue wracking my brain for more questions, but I think my point is already made (plus, I simply like the rule of three). I’m sure most everyone is familiar with the concept of education and learning, but ask someone one of these questions or one that is similar and they’ll have to ponder for a bit.
If they strike up the courage to answer it will be found that their answers will not be the same as the next person’s, or the person after that. This is because of something we as a society tend to ignore or fail to understand: learning is not universal.
Though we are better now than we used to be, with the occasional reference to the differences in being a visual learner vs a logical learner, I think it’s deeper than that. Learners simply can’t just be classified just by considering if someone likes listening when they learn things or if they like holding something physical.
I say all of this to lead into the fact that I’ve spent the last week trying to decipher what learning is to me.
The process of learning almost always begins through some sort of experience. Whether this stems from a memory of a mentor explaining a process, continuously attempting a practice in order to master it, or making a mistake while trying to complete a task isn’t important. It’s significant to understand that we learn when we experience something that makes whatever knowledge significant to us.
Of these experiences, the ones that are more likely to be memorable to us tend to be the ones we engage in. I like to think that I am a math minded person (the same goes for a lot of people I interact with). There’s been occasions where I’ve seen the phrase “mathematical learner” used interchangeably with the phrase “logical learner”. While some may find that learning math is similar to thinking logically, I find that the reason I cling on to math easily is because I go through the process of solving problems. When I directly engage with my work I grow to understand why I do a certain step and can apply it to a different question. I think the opposite can be said for those who struggle to learn math (since math seems to be like a two-sided spectrum where we feel either extremely confident or extremely unconfident). The subject is difficult because they are unable to engage with the questions and sometimes stress too much over trying to memorize certain steps.
While I find that I engage most when I do something on my own I also believe that others can be extremely impactful to your learning.
When I was in eighth grade I took world history. Everyone in the class dreaded it because we were unable to connect with the content we were being taught. However, there was one day where my teacher got a sudden spark of enthusiasm. She took the classroom as her theater and taught us about King Henry VIII through her one-woman show. If I learnt anything through Janis Stallings it’s that King Henry VIII was kind of a sleazeball. I understand that that story seems extremely out-of-place, but to me it serves a special purpose as a reminder that teachers can truly serve a good purpose. We’re supplied with people who should be professionals on the topics they teach, and through powerful lessons they can be extremely effective.
I briefly brought up the capability teamwork has to enhance the ability to learn earlier. While the idea is somewhat similar to that of having an instructor, it’s different in that with a team ideas can float around and bounce off one another. Through working with a group of people with different perceptions a single solution can mold together that ends up being more mighty than anything one could make by themselves. My art teacher, Mr. Richardson, always says, “I’m not the most creative person in the room. We are,” and that truly means something.
In the end, learning is subjective. There’s too many factors that make up my own philosophy to be able to list here, and I really only grazed the tip of the iceberg. While I addressed the effectiveness I see in the ability to engage (and I know that is the fifth time I’ve said that word) and taking advantage of one another in order to mutually benefit in the end, I also accept that others will feel completely different than I do, and that’s okay. If there was one simple solution to what learning looks like there wouldn’t be such an emphasis put on those who are successful in learning. Learning a trade wouldn’t be what it is, and the emotions and struggle that comes with understanding would be missing. The challenge is what strengthens us.
I feel a bit weird writing this because I’m used to writing in a formal manner, but I’m trying to have a more welcoming and relaxed tone for this post. I’m sorry if I end up sounding off (by mixing different types of writing on accident) or if I ramble too much, because I’m trying to say as much about my self that I can think of!
All of that being said, this is officially my first CAS blog! Surprisingly enough, I didn’t realize CAS was a thing in the program until a couple months ago, and after hearing about it I was a bit nervous it would drag me down like other service oriented clubs and such (not that I don’t enjoy being in those clubs.. They just feel like a task because the projects we do are forced upon us without any background information or enthusiasm). However, I’m super pumped to start coming up with projects and reflecting on them!
. . .
My full name is Emily Rose Conn. My name actually caused quite a controversy for my mom because the movie The Exorcism of Emily Rose came out a little over a year after I was born. This was particularly funny until I realized just how many people have the name “Emily Rose”. So, the lesson of that story is that people can be pretty dramatic.
In case I didn’t make it clear enough in the last paragraph, I’m sixteen years old. I feel like because of that I should be a lot more adventurous than I actually am. Even when I was younger I believed that when I was sixteen I’d go out all the time and party, or whatever other things people go out to do (little Emily thought that the epitome of a sixteen year old’s social life was going to the mall), but in reality I much prefer doing things at home! This ranges from painting, to working out, to playing The Sims for hours on end. I just think it’s healing to spend time working on yourself in various ways and doing something I’ve wanted to do is much more rewarding than going out for a couple hours.
Now that I’ve successfully solidified myself as a loner, I actually want to make it clear how meaningful friends are to me. When I say friends I also include my family members, because the fact that they actually are my friends means more to me than the fact that we’re related. I love spending time with my friends and doing things that we love because I’ve found that during those times I make the most memories.
Something most of my friends and I have in common is our love for music. I don’t think that’s a coincidence as music is really important to me. I love listening to music and find myself doing it at least once a day because if I don’t I feel sad. I also love singing along and I can only wish that I could play an instrument. I have a particular for boy bands. When I was really little I loved the Jonas Brothers and later Big Time Rush (who gave me my second concert, only being beat by The Wiggles), and when I was older I had a huge obsession with One Direction and 5 Seconds of Summer. Now I mainly listen to BTS, but it only feels different. I like to think that I’m a bit more mature now and actually appreciate their music along with who they are as people and what they stand for. I even used one of their songs on my IB application. I analyzed the song’s meaning as well as how it stands as an example of how music is universal despite language barriers.
I used to actually want to pursue a career in music. As is expected, over time I’ve grown and found interests in other things. At this current point I really hope to be a trauma surgeon. The specialty may change when I actually begin going to school, but the excitement of working in the trauma unit and always being on your feet really stands out to me. I plan on majoring in biochemistry (or something similar to it) and really hope to be able to attend Georgia Tech.
I’m going to assume that my career aspiration gives away my interest in health, but I’ll elaborate on it nonetheless. I feel a spark of excitement whenever I get the opportunity to learn more about biology, health, or healthcare. I’m currently a member of our school’s chapter of HOSA and I was even an officer last year (I’m crossing my fingers that I’ll be selected again this year). Even though I am a member of other clubs (NHS, NAHS, NSHS, Beta, Outdoors, Environmental, etc.), HOSA is definitely the most special to me. I always love volunteering for our biannual blood drives, helping out at hospice food drives, and competing in the state leadership conference.
. . .
It’s interesting how things can feel so short yet so long. Here I’ve written 669 words, 6 paragraphs, all about myself, my experiences, my interests, and whatever I could think of, yet I feel like I’ve barely covered anything. In the end I feel like this is sufficient enough for an introduction, and over time as I take on projects and reflect on them it will be more clear who I am.
I also think it’s interesting to point out that my blogs may hint over time who I will be. These blogs will be much different to the 5 AP Lang blogs I wrote (I was very surprised to find out there were only 5) in that I will be writing these for two years. By the time this chapter is closing I’ll almost be 18. Where I’m talking about hoping to go to a certain college now I may be talking about applying or being accepted in the future. Only time can tell.
All in all, I hope that in the future I come back to this website and cringe at how bad of a writer I was, roll my eyes at this introduction post, laugh at all of the lessons I learn, and sit in awe thinking that at some point I was sitting at my desk writing this.
For some it’s being able to take a stand and have your opinions valued, or to be declared not guilty for a charge of which someone was falsely accused, and sometimes it’s being served on a first come basis.
A large portion of the time the word “justice” is associated with the law, specifically in the courtroom. Justice is served when the legal system gives proper punishment or fair treatment. We desire to have justice. It is an assumed right that we ought to deserve as human beings, yet the right to justice remains problematic in law.
. . .
In July 1973 Robert Garrow murdered four people. He was the suspect in the middle of one of the largest manhunts until he was found 12 days later. He desired to have Frank Armani as his defense attorney in trial, as Armani has served Garrow in the past. Working together, Armani with his friend Francis Belge, one of the best criminal defense lawyers in central New York, strived to get Garrow a non guilty verdict on the account of insanity.
While investigating Garrow’s case, he admits to the murders and gives a detailed explanation as to where he hid two victims bodies. The victims he was referring to were still presumed missing and the police were actively searching for the young women, 21-year-old Susan Petz and 16-year-old Alicia Hauck. Armani and Belge discovered the bodies (both men were present when finding Petz and Belge was alone upon finding Hauck) and told no one. They attempted to use the information to bribe the prosecution into helping achieve a non guilty verdict, but the prosecution didn’t agree. Armani even kept his mouth sealed when confronted by the father of Susan Petz, pleading for any information he may have.
While in trial Belge made the mistake of revealing their knowledge. There was public outrage. The two men received death threats, vandalism, and were forced to equip themselves with weapons in order to prepare for the worst.
However, the law (and the legal community) was on their side.
Their story and case, referred to as “The Buried Bodies Case”, is used as an example taught in law schools across the nation, and is the topic of interest in this episode of RadioLab. The men were relieved of any charges relating to the failing to report a dead body due to the fact they were following legal ethics in maintaining confidentiality with their client.
Was there justice in this situation? Garrow was sentenced to 25 years to life in prison due to second degree murder. He was given the proper punishment for his crime meaning that justice was served, but it doesn’t feel right.
Legal ethics seem to play an interesting role in the idea of justice in the courtroom. We hold up our hopes that justice is served on some high pedestal even while the complex compilation of ethics used in law sit in a dingy lawn chair at the bottom, poking justice with a stick in an aggregating manner.
A large reason this becomes so complicated is the line we draw between legal ethics and our own morals. Most of us would make the decision that it is morally correct to tell the families of the hidden bodies to ease the family that has lived lacking sanity and to allow for proper burials. But ethically (according to the legal community) it is correct to keep the bodies’ locations secret in order to preserve the information and told by the client and the client’s confidentiality.
It’s hard to tell how there’s such a difference in two sides that fundamentally believe they’re doing the same thing while striving for the same goal that is justice, but the difference is evident. Interestingly enough, I personally find it hard trying to find a winner. They both debate inside my head, but they both seem correct.
The Cons of Writing 