Robert Telles isn't willing to discuss how his DNA ended up under the fingernails of Jeff German. Or why his wife's car was spotted near the sixty-nine-year-old investigative reporter's house on a warm Friday morning in early September, a day before a neighbor discovered German's lifeless body at the side of his Las Vegas home. Or how an outfit matching the one worn by the suspect captured on security-cam footage wound up in Telles's home. Speaking to me at the Clark County Detention Center, a couple miles north of the Vegas Strip, Telles is serious but engaged. Eager to please, even. But he must be careful about what he says. His court-appointed lawyers at the time made that clear. The man is charged with premeditated murder in one of the most sensational cases in recent history here—one that drew the attention of virtually every major newspaper and network in the country.
Robert Telles isn't willing to discuss how his DNA ended up under the fingernails of Jeff German. Or why his wife's car was spotted near the sixty-nine-year-old investigative reporter's house on a warm Friday morning in early September, a day before a neighbor discovered German's lifeless body at the side of his Las Vegas home. Or how an outfit matching the one worn by the suspect captured on security-cam footage wound up in Telles's home. Speaking to me at the Clark County Detention Center, a couple miles north of the Vegas Strip, Telles is serious but engaged. Eager to please, even. But he must be careful about what he says. His court-appointed lawyers at the time made that clear. The man is charged with premeditated murder in one of the most sensational cases in recent history here—one that drew the attention of virtually every major newspaper and network in the country. |
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You're not too late. There are still steep discounts. |
| Heather Radke, the author of 'Butts: A Backstory', took on a hell of a task: explaining our cultural obsession with women's rear ends. |
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Each night as I put my three-year-old son to bed we read our books, we sing our songs, and I tell myself that he may not survive to see the morning. When I revealed this to my mother the other night, she said it made her sick to her stomach. "How could you do that?" she asked. "How could you possibly think like that?" She sat on the couch in my living room, the light from the fire roaring in the fireplace danced across her face as she looked at me with earnest concern. I sat on the hearth and took a beat to digest the moment. Then I inhaled deeply, and started to explain. About two and a half years ago, I became fascinated with the philosophy known as Stoicism, an ancient school of thought that urges us to own the immediate present, and in doing so, to achieve true freedom—and, perhaps, even happiness. |
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Score a suitcase on sale for your next trip. |
| Need to tune out the world? There's a podcast for that. Need to tune into the world? There's plenty to cover you there, too. |
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Roseanne Barr stood behind three feet of neon-blue glass, bottles of gin, vodka, bourbon, and tequila lined up behind her. White cement squares with handprints covered the walls. It was September 17, 1995; Barr was the reigning queen of prime-time television, but on this particular night she was wearing an oversize red T-shirt adorned with PLANET HOLLYWOOD across its front, cleaning a glass behind the bar at America's most popular chain restaurant. If this sounds not at all organic, not at all resembling what these incredibly famous people would order or just a little too scripted, that's because it likely was. This was opening night of the Planet Hollywood on Rodeo Drive. Every celebrity you could imagine was there. It was the hottest ticket in town. |
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