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US barrister explains how he won case against Donaghadee speeding ticket: ‘I said to myself this is not right'

US barrister explains how he won case against Donaghadee speeding ticket: ‘I said to myself this is not right'

The judge threw out the speeding case after former Florida senator Joe Gerston claimed sign displayed wrong info
Steven Moore and Paul Higgins
An accomplished American barrister has explained how he won his case against a speeding ticket he received in Donaghadee.
Former Florida Senator Joe Gersten, who settled in Millisle after leaving America 35 years ago amidst a scandal, appeared at Ards Magistrates' Court where he bamboozled the PPS, their star witness who clocked him allegedly speeding, and a judge who on hearing his detailed defence – chucked his case out.

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How a high heel entrepreneur is handling tariffs before the other shoe drops
How a high heel entrepreneur is handling tariffs before the other shoe drops

NBC News

time4 hours ago

  • NBC News

How a high heel entrepreneur is handling tariffs before the other shoe drops

Checkbook Chronicles Haley Pavone testified to Congress that tariffs are crushing small-business owners' American dream. June 21, 2025, 5:07 AM EDT By Kayla Steinberg Haley Pavone thought this was going to be the biggest and best year yet for her footwear company. Based in Southern California, she had big dreams for Pashion Footwear, the online business she started as a 20-year-old college junior that sells high heels that convert into flats. Instead, she found herself imploring lawmakers for help as tariffs threaten to cripple her company. 'We went from duty-free status to paying actually 190% on average overnight,' Pavone told NBC News. In the months since President Donald Trump took office, the trade war has swung wildly back and forth. Tariff rates have, at times, changed suddenly and dramatically as U.S. officials seek deals with other countries. It has ensnared business owners like Pavone in a battle they didn't choose, as they struggle to plan for a future they can't clearly see. 'It has been chaos to say the least,' she said. 'It feels like small businesses are either being intentionally attacked or being completely forgotten. And I don't know which one is worse.' Business breakdown Pashion Footwear was born out of Pavone's own struggles with high heels. She loved wearing them but hated the inevitable pain that came with being hours on her feet. So in 2016, she founded Pashion. 'It's the biggest love-hate relationship in women's closets,' she said. 'And we're trying to change that.' Pavone's company has grown to employ 12 and has patents in the United States, China and the European Union. for its sole-support technology. And last year, Pashion made $9 million in gross revenue, up 88% from 2023. Pavone attributes much of that success to social media. She and the company have more than 2 million followers combined across TikTok and Instagram, with posts showing an array of heels transforming into flats with a quick twist and press. Tariff troubles For Pavone's small business, it has never been easy: between Trump's first trade war with China and then the pandemic — plus the ensuing supply chain crisis and recession. Pavone said this year she had expected her business to grow 150%, planned to hire several employees and was looking into wholesale. But then Trump eliminated the 'de minimis' exemption, which allowed items from China valued at $800 or less to come into the U.S. duty-free. The change took effect May 2. 'We went from making about 19-20% per shoe after all of our operating expenses to actually losing about $40 per shoe,' Pavone said. The Walnut Knit Booties that used to make the company $43.70 per pair, she said, turned into a $41.16 loss. After the U.S. and China agreed to a 90-day tariff pause, Pashion was left with tariffs of 36% to 75% on each product. The company has paid more than $50,000 in tariffs to U.S. Customs and Border Protection since the May 2 change. The company's shoes are manufactured in China, and Pavone said they can't be made elsewhere — though it's not for lack of trying. 'I've tried talking to manufacturers in Vietnam, Brazil, India and even one very small factory I was able to find in the U.S.,' she said. 'All of them have unanimously said that China is the only supply chain currently that can do what we need at scale.' And Pashion was hit hard by another rule change. Earlier this year, it qualified for and signed a $5 million loan from the Small Business Administration. Pavone planned to use that money to buy Pashion out of predatory debt it took on to survive the pandemic, invest in hiring and buy more inventory. But the Trump administration changed the qualifications to receive the funding, now requiring all shareholders to be U.S. citizens — and Pavone said her company raised 1.7% of its funding from international investors. The loan was pulled. 'We feel completely ignored, and we also feel completely out of control,' she said. 'It basically feels like we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop every second of the day.' Taking action The changes and uncertainty have dashed Pavone's big dreams for the year. She said she slashed inventory orders from $1 million for the fall and $1.5 million for the holidays to around $300,000 each, wanting to keep her budget open to assume tariff liability. 'This went from being a growth year to a year where we're really just trying to make ends meet and stay afloat,' she said. To handle the increased costs, the company added a tariff tax averaging $15 to $25 per product when U.S. customers check out. Demand from U.S. consumers has since dropped around 30%, Pavone said. 'There's plenty of customers where even though they understand what we're doing, they're now priced out of what they can pay, so they can't buy,' she said. She shared her frustrations on TikTok, breaking down for her followers exactly how tariffs are affecting the business. And at a hearing in May, Pavone explained to lawmakers just how painful the changes have been. 'Every day that these trade policies continue, it means the death of more American dreams,' she told lawmakers. 'This is not a short-term pain. This is the destruction of livelihoods, both for entrepreneurs and those they employ.' Pavone hopes her testimony could help lawmakers push for relief. 'No matter what happens, I at least know that I've fought as hard as anyone possibly could,' she said. Kayla Steinberg Kayla Steinberg is a producer at NBC News covering business and the economy.

'Trump's latest golden gimmick has finally been exposed - the grift goes on'
'Trump's latest golden gimmick has finally been exposed - the grift goes on'

Daily Mirror

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'Trump's latest golden gimmick has finally been exposed - the grift goes on'

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Ted Bundy's unnerving final 12 words before he was executed
Ted Bundy's unnerving final 12 words before he was executed

Daily Mirror

time8 hours ago

  • Daily Mirror

Ted Bundy's unnerving final 12 words before he was executed

Ted Bundy was convicted of the murders of more than 30 young women, but his 12-year killing spree may have been far more extensive, with the true number of his victims still unknown As Theodore Robert Bundy, infamously known as Ted Bundy, was escorted to 'Old Sparky', Florida's dreaded electric chair, he seemed to have come to terms with his impending demise. Gone was the usual bravado of the convicted killer, instead, a sombre mood enveloped him as he stepped into the execution chamber. ‌ The LA Times reported that Bundy had spent his last night in tears and prayer, grappling with the reality of his looming end. ‌ Bundy, a man whose charm ensnared the American public's attention, remained an enigma to many. His biographer Ann Rule, a former police officer, labelled him a "sadistic sociopath" who revelled in the agony of others. Yet, Rule herself had once been oblivious to the peril he posed when they both volunteered at Seattle's Suicide Hotline Crisis Center in 1971, years before Bundy's initial arrest, reports the Mirror US. In her book 'The Stranger Beside Me', Rule recalled Bundy as "kind, solicitous, and empathetic" during their time together – a stark contradiction to the monster behind numerous brutal femicides and his brazen courtroom demeanour, which belied his true nature. Throughout his life, Bundy was handed three death sentences. He managed to postpone the inevitable through a series of cunning tactics over this extended period, including a successful escape and some sturdy legal manoeuvring. Bundy utilised various strategies that led to prolonged proceedings, and the prosecution, who initially considered removing the death penalty in exchange for a lengthy sentence, grew weary of his tactics. ‌ By the time he reached his final trial in 1980, prosecutors were determined to see Bundy face his end in their state's deadliest electric chair. The trial was groundbreaking in many ways, with coverage from 250 journalists from five continents, marking it as the first televised trial in the United States. There was a palpable sense of anticipation, as if justice was finally about to be served to Bundy. Despite having five court-appointed lawyers, Bundy largely conducted his own defence, seizing the opportunity to grandstand before the cameras. ‌ At times, the courtroom drama seemed more akin to a soap opera than a criminal trial involving a defendant facing the death penalty. Bundy was highly intelligent, but his showboating, delusions of grandeur, and constant desire to maintain control ultimately worked against him. Ted Bundy, the notorious death row inmate, not only prolonged his trial but also exploited an obscure Florida law to propose to his girlfriend and witness, Carole Ann Boone, who accepted from the stand. ‌ This peculiar Florida statute meant that declaring a marriage in court before a judge was tantamount to a legal union. After Boone's acceptance, which left many in disbelief, Bundy declared himself legally wedded in the courtroom, adding another layer of drama to his already sensational trial. As his sentence was delivered, he is said to have stood up and exclaimed, "Tell the jury they were wrong!". Bundy's enigmatic nature fascinated the public, leading to a crowd of about 500 people gathering outside the north Florida jail on January 24, 1989, eager for updates on his fate, while others anticipated news from the press. ‌ Choosing to forgo his final meal, Bundy was led to the electric chair, where he faced 42 onlookers during the final preparations for his execution. In the moments leading up to his execution, scheduled for around 7.15pm, Superintendent Tom Barton asked Bundy for his last words. With little hesitation, Bundy, who was nearing the end of his life, turned to Jim Coleman, one of his solicitors, and Fred Lawrence, the Methodist minister who had prayed with him the previous night. ‌ The doomed man imparted a final message, requesting, "I'd like you to give my love to my family and friends." A leather strap was tightened across Bundy's mouth and chin, and the electric chair's metal skullcap was securely fastened, concealing his face behind a thick black veil. Barton gave the signal, and an unidentified executioner activated the device, sending 2,000 volts of electricity surging through the chair. Bundy's body stiffened from the voltage, his hands clenched, and a small plume of smoke rose from his right leg. ‌ After a minute, the machine was turned off, and Bundy's body went limp. A paramedic opened his blue shirt to check for a heartbeat, while another man shone a light into his eyes. At 7:16 am, it was officially confirmed: Ted Bundy was dead. Outside the prison, the crowd erupted in cheers. As the witnesses to Bundy's execution filed out of the facility, they appeared subdued. Some seemed taken aback by the jubilation unfolding before them in the chilly morning air. "Regardless of what Bundy did, he was still a human being," commented Jim Sewell, Gulfport, Florida's police chief, who had witnessed the serial killer's execution. Yet even Sewell, still reeling from the shock of witnessing the execution, admitted feeling a profound sense of relief that Bundy was gone. This sentiment resonated across the country, especially among women, who now had one fewer ruthless predator to fear in their daily lives.

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