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He’s a brawny 185 pounds, with thick muscles that run along his shoulders and down his calves. He kisses them both goodbye, then walks outside, into the glare of bright floodlights in the yard.
He gazes at the tattoos covering his broad chest and upper arms, a swirling mural of demons, skulls, and angry faces. The family lives in a double-wide trailer on a dead-end street just outside tiny Ferris, about twenty miles southeast of Dallas. To his left, toward the end of the cul-de-sac, there’s a yard piled with tires, cinder blocks, rusted bikes, and crumpled blue tarps, guarded by a tied-up dog.
"There are a lot of sporting options, both professionally and at the amateur level, in the Twin Cities—and Minnesotans support them all.
“What the perpetrators have in common is their proclaimed faith.
"Despite a ton of losing over the years, the fans keep coming back to the games," says Paul Allen, a radio host at Minneapolis sports radio station KFAN FM 100.3.
"I've been continually impressed with the passion and loyalty of the fans," adds Timberwolves forward Kevin Love.
The Sandwell Safeguarding Children Board (SSCB) report stated: “Intelligence suggests that of potential suspects identified, 75 per cent of those known are of Asian ethnicity.
“This has mirrored other forces’ experiences of known offenders and, as we have seen from the Derbyshire, Lancashire and Rochdale cases, has the potential to impact on trust and confidence within local communities across the West Midlands.” In 2015, the reported that official documents dating back to 2009 showed West Midlands Police were not aware of the extent of the number of vulnerable children being targetted by the Muslim rape gangs.
There are now more children in Sandwell who are subject to Child Protection Plans than we have ever had before.
He gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom, where he washes his face and looks in the mirror.
Greg didn’t ask for mercy, and he didn’t expect it.
At forty, he’s still boyish, with short brownish-blond hair and pale blue eyes.
He brushes his teeth, the front ones prosthetic, and straightens to his full five foot eleven inches. He puts on a pot of coffee, turns on the computer, reads the news. His wife, Ticey, and their four-year-old, Anthony, won’t rise for a couple of hours.
They are a reminder of the evil inside him, a violence that’s always waiting to be loosed. He stares into his eyes, which are inviting, almost kind. It’s far from any school playground, any park, any restaurant that might serve chicken fingers or ice cream. Across the road sits a trailer occupied by a dozen immigrants, he doesn’t know from where.