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Crime

Readers Write

Mischief

A teenage vandal, a burning secret, a sexual awakening

By Our Readers October 2017
Fiction

Stop Hitting Yourself

I was twenty-six, working full time at the Bagelry in suburban Chicago, avoiding the future. The future did not seem like anything you could count on. Even in suburban Chicago, where Public Works employees smiled while scraping up roadkill, people were unhappy, desperate to convince themselves of something good. Desperate.

By Kelly Luce September 2017
One Nation, Indivisible

September 2017

Last month, in a section titled “One Nation, Indivisible,” we devoted more than half our pages to excerpts from The Sun’s archives. Our goal was to address the current political moment by giving readers perspective on the past and courage to face the present. Because the problems in our nation seem unlikely to be resolved anytime soon, we are making this an ongoing part of the magazine.

September 2017
The Sun Interview

The Whole Truth

Richard A. Leo On Why Innocent People Confess To Crimes

Once the police come to the conclusion that someone committed the crime, they are trained to interrogate. At that point their goal isn’t to gather information; it’s to build a case against the person they’ve already decided is guilty. They want to get a confession.

By Mark Leviton July 2017
Photography

Life On The Outside

Photographer Joseph Rodríguez grew up in Brooklyn, New York, and as a boy he watched the men in his family go in and out of prison. There were very few support programs for ex-felons at the time, and Rodríguez witnessed the difficulty his relatives had adjusting to life on the outside.

By Joseph Rodríguez July 2017
Quotations

Sunbeams

I’m not against the police; I’m just afraid of them.

Alfred Hitchcock

July 2017
Readers Write

Breaking The Law

An illegal abortion, a brother’s drug habit, Cold War secrets

By Our Readers May 2017
Fiction

Girls Like Her

I got the call in the middle of the night. I dressed fast, expecting Parker to wake up any minute and make me come back, but he didn’t. It was summer, and the air felt warm even at 2 AM. I made a cup of coffee and walked down the long driveway to the road. Julie was giving me a ride, but she’d never been to my house before. Nobody ever came there to see me.

By Alison Clement March 2017
Fiction

Due To Vandalism

The copper is the easiest, isn’t it, vandal? You can clear the whole house with a hammer and a hacksaw. Start in the basement at the water heater. If the property has been properly winterized, the water will be shut off, and even if it hasn’t been, it takes hours for a basement to flood and days for someone to notice. (Just make sure the power is off, for real. In April they found a fried vandal in a cellar in Pontiac, Michigan, his body bobbing as high as the window well.)

By Michael Deagler June 2016
Poetry

We Would Never Sleep

We the people, we the one / times 320 million, I’m rounding up, there are really / too many grass blades to count, / wheat plants to tally, just see / the whole field swaying from here to that shy / blue mountain.

By David Hernandez July 2015