A grassroots effort to get dirty money out of Colorado politics and to even the political playing field is gathering steam this summer with volunteers working against the clock to gather enough signatures to place a clean elections measure on the statewide ballot.
She wasnt on the run long, however, when law enforcement caught up with her. She spent her first five days in Denver City Jail heavily pregnant and sleeping on the floor on a dirty blanket. Then she was transferred to Denver County Jail, where she stayed for a time, before being transferred to El Paso County on her due date and then back again.
Thatís what the residents of Boulder seem to believe. While readily conceding their own weakness as they crawl into their comfy beds each night, they spare nary a thought for the dozens of men and women who will face arrest if they attempt to get a good nightís rest.
The little sign on the front door tells me I'm in the right place. It warns me that if I knock, I should be prepared for the fact that the people who live here are naturalists who more often than not go nude inside their home. It's their naturalist lifestyle or more specifically, some people's reaction to it that brings me here.
Oklahoma lawmakers must loathe women. On Tuesday, April 27, the Oklahoma State Legislature overwhelmingly voted to override vetoes of two anti-abortion measures, one that essentially legalizes the sexual violation of any woman seeking an abortion and another that legalizes malpractice on the part of doctors hoping to prevent them.
It's hard to believe that there was a time when anyone doubted the link between lung cancer and smoking. When I first came to work in a newsroom, it was common for nicotine addicts to smoke at their desks. People smoked in airplanes, in restaurants, hotel lobbies.
It`s easy to look at Jeremiah Sosa's short life and conclude that he never had a chance. After all, he was born to two parents who are in prison. His mother, Georgina Alaniz, 25, gave birth while serving a sentence for robbery, forgery and escape.
I met Tim Leifield in the late summer of 2006 at a table in front of Caffe
Solé. In the midst of doing interviews for what became a five-part series
about the history of HIV/AIDS in Boulder County, I wanted to get his
perspective as the first director of Boulder County AIDS Project on the
early days of the epidemic.
He was warm and friendly and funny, and I found myself alternatively
laughing or moved to tears during the course of the two hours that we spoke.
He recalled how he’d first heard about GRID — gay-related immune deficiency,
as AIDS was known before its cause was discovered — from friends in New York
who were sick and dying. He talked about the fear that permeated the gay
community in those dark days of the late 1980s.