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06/01/2026

Frances Newton: Executed After Killing Her Babies for Money | Crime, Final Meal & Last Words

This is one of the most disturbing stories in the history of ex*****ons in the United States. The story of Frances Newton, the first black woman executed in the country. A woman who, after spending nearly two decades on death row, swore she was innocent until her final breath. Newton was convicted of murdering her husband and their two young children, a crime so shocking, so unforgivable that it completely divided public opinion.

But before reaching her final moments, we need to go back to the decision that sealed her fate. The case you're about to hear includes sensitive and distressing details. Viewer discretion is advised. Every fact has been presented with care and respect for the victims. Frances Elaine Newton was born on April 12th, 1965 in Houston, Texas.

She grew up in a working-class family during a time of major social change in the United States. During her teenage years, Frances faced the same struggles that many black women did in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Few opportunities, deep inequality, and a constant fight to move forward. At 13, Frances met a boy who would soon become her boyfriend, Adrian Newton, who was 15 at the time.

He was a streetwise kid, rebellious, and used to surviving in tough environments. He had already started getting involved in shady activities, but with Frances, he was always kind and affectionate. Everything changed in 1979. Frances was only 15 when she became pregnant with her first child, Alton Jared Newton. He was a beautiful baby, but the news deeply upset her parents, not only because of her young age, but also because Adrian didn't seem to have a stable future ahead of him.

As time went on, and with the intention of building a family, Frances married Adrian when she was 20 and he was 23. But the marriage quickly turned into a battlefield. Both had affairs outside the relationship and arguments became part of their daily life. By then, Adrian was fully involved in drug trafficking and owed money to several suppliers.

According to records, he owed around $1,500 to a man whose name was never revealed. Frances was practically raising their son, Alton, on her own. Although Adrian was affectionate toward him, he failed to fulfill his duties as a father or a provider. The financial burden fell entirely on Frances. In 1985, she became pregnant again and gave birth to their daughter, Farah Elaine Newton.

Frances did everything she could to support her family through occasional jobs while caring for her two babies. They lived in a modest apartment complex in Houston, along with Sterling Newton, Adrian's brother, who also shared the space. The atmosphere at home was tense and family life became increasingly unstable.

But in 1987, something terrible happened that would change their lives forever. In March of that year, Frances Newton made a decision that would later prove both crucial and deeply disturbing. She needed to obtain life insurance policies and with the help of her cousin, Frederick Wilson, who worked as an insurance agent, she managed to secure several policies totaling $100,000.

These policies covered three people, her husband, Adrian, her son, Alton, and her daughter, Farah. [music] However, there was one detail that would later become a key piece of evidence at her trial. [music] To validate the policies, Adrian's signature was required, but Frances had forged [music] his signature on the documents.

When questioned about it later, she claimed she had done it because she didn't want Adrian to complain about the money she spent on the insurance premiums. Up to this point, despite all the hardships she had faced, Frances was still seen as an ordinary woman, a mother doing her best to raise her children. But what she did next was beyond comprehension.

By then, the marriage was completely destroyed. Adrian had a new partner, a woman named Ramona, with whom he had a steady relationship, one he even supported financially. This situation sparked deep resentment in Frances, a mix of jealousy, anger, and frustration that slowly began to consume [music] her.

On April 7th, 1987, Adrian's girlfriend, Ramona Bell, called the apartment that afternoon. Adrian told her he was tired and wanted to sleep, but said he couldn't until Frances left for work. He didn't trust her. He said she seemed strange, different somehow. When Frances came home from work some

time between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m., she hugged her children, kissed her baby girl, and played for a while with her son. Almost as if she knew it would be the last time. Then she asked Adrian's brother, Sterling, to step out so she could talk to her husband about their marriage problems. Adrian [music] refused, but Sterling eventually left, leaving only Frances, Adrian, and the two children [music] inside the apartment.

Between 6:00 and 6:30 p.m., the argument became unbearably heated and Frances shot Adrian in the head from behind. Then, in an act of extreme cruelty and inhumanity, she walked toward her children's rooms. She first went to her son, Alton's room. According to the crime scene evidence, he had been crying after hearing his parents argue.

Frances entered and, without saying a single word, shot him in the chest, killing him [music] instantly. After that, she went to the crib of her baby daughter, Farah, and shot her in the chest as well. What was left behind was beyond description, chaos, blood, and horror. Shortly after the murders, Frances went to see her cousin, Sandra Nelms, who lived in the same apartment complex, perhaps as a way to create a facade or avoid suspicion.

She told Sandra she had just gotten off work and needed her to come along to drop something off before going home. The two walked to Frances' car, where Frances took out a blue bag and quietly placed it inside an abandoned house next door, a property owned by her parents. Inside that bag was a .25 caliber pistol.

Minutes later, around 7:30 p.m., Frances and Sandra went together to the Newton apartment. When they opened the door, the horror revealed itself. Adrian was slumped on the couch, shot in the head. In the bedrooms, little Alton and Farah lay in their beds, each with a gunshot wound to the chest....Part 2 is in the comments👇👇

05/31/2026

Woman Disappeared in Yellowstone — 4 Months Later THIS Was Discovered Buried Under Her Abandoned...

On June 18, 2019, Rebecca Torres pitched her orange tent at campsite 2S5 in the Slow Creek backcountry of Yellowstone National Park and disappeared into the kind of solitude she had always seemed to prefer.

According to the wilderness permit she filed 3 days earlier, she intended to spend 5 nights photographing wolves in the Lamar Valley before returning to her job as a veterinary technician in Bozeman, Montana. The trip was not unusual by the standards of the life she had built for herself. Rebecca spent nearly all her vacation time in the wilderness, usually alone, always with a camera, moving through national parks and high-country trails with a patience that made other people trust her judgment. Her supervisor at Mountain View Animal Hospital, Dr. Janet Mills, later told investigators that Rebecca understood animals in a way that seemed almost instinctive. She could calm aggressive dogs simply by entering a room. She noticed pain before machines did. She moved through the clinic with the same focused calm she later brought to wolves, elk, bears, and remote terrain.

Her social media told a version of the same story. The account remained online long after she vanished, hundreds of photographs arranged in careful sequence, each image accompanied by notes on animal behavior, habitat conditions, weather, migration signs, and the subtle logic of wilderness movement. Rebecca did not romanticize wildlife. She studied it. She wanted to understand what lived beyond the reach of pavement and noise, and she approached that understanding with enough seriousness that even the casual beauty of her photographs seemed secondary to the discipline behind them.

On the morning of June 15, she stopped at the Albright Visitor Center near Yellowstone’s north entrance and picked up her permit.

The ranger who processed her paperwork later testified that she appeared exceptionally well prepared. She carried a bear canister, a GPS device, and an emergency beacon, the kind of equipment that usually reassured park staff they were dealing with someone who took the wilderness seriously. She had specifically requested site 2S5, one of the more remote camps in the Slow Creek drainage, accessible only by hiking 11 miles through prime grizzly territory. When the ranger reminded her about food storage and recent wolf activity in the area, Rebecca smiled and said she was counting on the wolves being active.

That reply would later take on a haunting quality for people who read the case file. At the time, it merely sounded like the remark of someone who knew exactly what she came for.

The trail into Slow Creek wound through lodgepole pine, crossed open meadows, and gradually dropped into a valley shaped long before roads existed, carved by glaciers and left to weather into something at once beautiful and quietly severe. Later GPS data would show that Rebecca made strong time on the hike, reaching the campsite by 4:30 p.m. on June 18. The site sat on a small rise above the creek, sheltered by willows and positioned well enough to catch views of the meadows where elk grazed at dawn and dusk. It was the kind of place that rewarded stillness.

At 6:47 p.m., she texted her roommate.

Paradise found. Saw fresh wolf tracks by the creek. Going dark for a few days.

Then she put her phone on airplane mode to preserve the battery, and no other message ever left the device.

Three hikers passed through the area on June 20 and noticed the orange tent from the trail. Nothing seemed obviously wrong except that the rainfly was partially unzipped despite threatening weather. They assumed Rebecca was out with her camera and kept moving. On June 21, a backcountry ranger conducting routine patrol logged the tent’s location, noted the stillness around it, and moved on. Solo campers often vanished for entire days while photographing or scouting wildlife. He would later testify that something about the camp felt off, but at the time he blamed the unease on the storm front moving through the area.

Rebecca was due back at work on June 24.

When she failed to appear, Dr. Mills first assumed she had extended the trip, something Rebecca had done before when wildlife viewing was especially good. But when she missed a scheduled surgery on June 25 without calling, concern hardened into alarm. Dr. Mills contacted Rebecca’s emergency contact, her sister Sarah, in Colorado. Sarah had not spoken to Rebecca since June 14, but even then she was not immediately panicked. Her sister had a habit of disappearing into the backcountry and reappearing when she pleased. It was only after Rebecca’s roommate mentioned the going dark text that Sarah called the park service on June 26.

The initial response followed protocol. Solo backcountry users changed plans. Cell service was minimal. Storms delayed people. Nothing in the first hours justified a full emergency operation. Rangers were sent to site 2S5 on the morning of June 27.

What they found triggered escalation almost immediately.

Rebecca’s tent was intact but empty. Her sleeping bag was laid out as if she had been using it. Her backpack leaned against a tree. Her food had been properly stored in the bear canister. Her boots sat neatly outside the tent entrance. But her camera, the expensive Canon system she protected obsessively according to everyone who knew her, was gone. So was Rebecca.

The search began within the hour.

At first, the assumptions were practical and grim. She had gone out to photograph wolves or other wildlife and suffered an accident. She might have fallen into the creek. She might have startled a bear. She might have slipped on wet terrain and landed somewhere hidden from quick view. Search teams focused on game trails leading from the campsite toward the kinds of areas Rebecca would logically have chosen for photography. Dog teams were brought in from Bozeman. Helicopters flew patterns over the drainage. Searchers moved through thickets, creek edges, meadows, caves, and ridgelines.

The dogs picked up Rebecca’s scent leading from the tent toward the creek. At the water’s edge, it vanished.

That suggested one of several possibilities, none of them good. She may have crossed the creek. She may have walked within it. She may have fallen into it. In mountain terrain, water could erase a person far more efficiently than most outsiders understood.

By the second day, more than 40 people were involved in the search.

A formal grid extended across 5 square miles. Divers checked the deep, cold pools of Slow Creek where bodies could become trapped beneath current and stone. Thermal imaging flights passed at dawn and dusk to catch any heat signature that might rise from hidden ground or improvised shelter. Search teams remarked, more than once, on the lack of normal wildlife activity in the area. One rescuer later wrote that even the birds seemed absent, leaving the drainage unnaturally silent except for radio chatter and the repeated calling of Rebecca’s name.

On June 29, one small piece of physical evidence finally appeared.

A searcher found what looked like a camera lens cap near a game trail roughly half a mile from the campsite. It matched Rebecca’s Canon equipment. It lay at the base of a lodgepole pine, half-buried in pine needles, as if dropped rather than torn loose in struggle. The ground around the tree showed nothing else. No blood. No fabric. No signs of a fight. No drag marks. No trace of another person.

The search widened again to accommodate the possibility that Rebecca had become disoriented. Wilderness medicine experts consulted by the park service explained that altitude, exposure, injury, fear, or early hypothermia could make even experienced hikers behave irrationally. People climbed ridges in search of signal, crawled into caves for shelter, followed drainages in the wrong direction, and walked astonishing distances after sustaining head injuries. So teams checked caves, ridge lines, avalanche chutes, and exposed slopes where a fall could hide a body from both air and ground search.

Nothing.......
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05/31/2026

Torture at Dubai Parties! Maria Kovalchuk’s FRIEND Makes a SHOCKING CLAIM!

When the news about a tragic story Maria Kovalchuk first reached the ears the public, many did not believe it. Can they really ordinary parties in Dubai, even closed and elite, will turn around for girls are so terrible consequences? But Maria survived and spoke. Now after her another woman decided to speak, her close friend whose name we will conditionally call Ksenia.

She said that I’m ready to share additional even more shocking details about horrors of Dubai parties where girls forced to have s*x, beaten, and some, according to her, even killed. This sounds like scary legend, but its story is supported evidence and evidence, which do not allow us to blame everything on fantasy.

Ksenia was 26 when she moved to the capital, dreaming of modeling career. She never achieved it high altitudes, limited to infrequent photo shoots for local brands. But I found a new friend Maria Kovalchuk there, who was six months younger and had similar ambitions. Ksenia and Maria quickly got closer, rented a room for two in for several months, went together for castings, learned makeup and style.

It was during this period that both of them strangely tempting ones began to come across contracts. Dubai parties are only for a couple of days. Huge fees, that’s it paid. We discussed this at first as joke,” says Ksenia. But then, when several of our friends went and returned with a bunch of expensive things, we Masha thought: “What if it’s really it’s just a beautiful party where the rich The sheikhs want to have fun with the model, and they do you mind the money? Seems harmless would fly for the weekend, earn money and that’s it.

Maria, as we now know, agreed earlier. Ksenia hesitated a little longer, but in the end I was tempted. I mired in debt, I thought, well, a couple parties, I’ll tolerate some at most whim, but I will return richer. Maria me consoled. You saw the girls driving and everything is ok.

But then we didn’t know everything truth. The girls who returned without injuries, remained silent. And who was returning broken? hid details from fear or shame. We were naive. Yes Ksenia went to Dubai for the first time in end of 2024. According to her, the first the trip was relatively calm. They actually put us in a hotel, there was a guest party.

Yes, it was there tense. They demanded to obey the masters, but it did not reach the point of much violence. That’s why I didn’t sound the alarm. After this trip she and Maria no longer doubted. They were going to fly to Dubai for such events more often, but few people knew what exactly was in store for them second, third trip.

When Ksenia I came for the second time at the invitation of him the same agency that actually turned out to be just a group of intermediaries, not drawing up official papers, conditions suddenly changed. We were not accommodated in a familiar hotel,” she recalls. They said you’ll live on W***y so that be closer to the guests.

me this I was alarmed, but there was nowhere to go. I already bought tickets on their terms, and the contract allegedly contained a penalty if I will refuse. According to her, at the Villa they met several dozen girls from different countries: Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Moldova. some of the countries Asia.

Everyone walked tensely, trying once again do not enter into conversations. “It seemed like people intimidated,” says Ksenia. But we explained: “Don’t worry, they’re just they have been working for a long time, they know that everything should be quiet and without scandals.” First the demand was an unpleasant surprise completely hand over phones and any means of communication under pretext.

None photos and leaks. VIP guests don’t like publicity. The second thing is that the parties passed not only at night, but also could stretch out over several days, and the owners believed that girls should be available at any time. Hinted at s*x, clearly indicating that if not let’s agree, we may not earn any more “We’ll get fined,” shares Ksenia.

She At first she objected, saying that agreed only to the presence and role models. They answered her: “It’s like that for everyone here. Either you play by the rules or you pay for exit from the contract.” Fine amount sounded incredible, as if she caught in bo***ge. girl confused. They are literally demonstrated that I was trapped.

By according to Ksenia, on the very first day Ville she witnessed how one of the girls, let’s call her Svetlana, took away with him some sheikh in white attire. An hour later Svetlana returned, crying. She had noticeable marks from beatings on the arms and neck. She was sitting in “I was shaking all over the corridor,” recalls Ksenia....read more 👇👇👇

05/31/2026

JUST IN: Florida has EXECUTED Bryan Jennings for the r**e and murder of a 6-year-old girl.

On November 13th, 2025, after spending more than 46 years on death row, Brian Frederick Jennings was executed by lethal injection at Florida State Prison in Starkey. His name became tied to one of the most disturbing crimes in the state's history, the abduction, assault, and murder of a 6-year-old girl. In this video, I'll walk you through what happened that morning, what his final meal was, and the last words he spoke before he died.

The story goes back to May 11th, 1979, in the quiet neighborhood of Merritt Island, Brevard County. There, a 20-year-old Marine named Brian Frederick Jennings was unknowingly on the verge of committing an act of violence that would devastate a family and leave him waiting more than four decades for his ex*****on.

The night before, on May 10th, Jennings had been out drinking with friends at a local bar. At some point during the night, after several drinks, he stopped in front of the Kunash family home. He walked up to a window and saw the children's bedroom lit by a small nightlight. On the bed lay 6-year-old Rebecca Kunash sleeping peacefully.

After watching her for a few moments, Jennings walked away and continued drinking at two different bars. Hours later, heavily intoxicated, Jennings returned to his usual bar. A friend, James Slocum, had to drive him home around midnight because Jennings' pants had ripped. Slocum later said he took the wheel because Jennings was far too drunk to drive.

After changing clothes, Slocum drove him back to the bar, but Jennings didn't stay there. Between 4:00 and 5:00 a.m. on May 11th, he went back to the Kunash home. Robert and Patricia Kunash were asleep elsewhere in the house, unaware of what was about to happen. In her bedroom, lit only by the soft glow of her nightlight, Rebecca slept, unaware that a predator had returned to her window.

Jennings quietly approached the window of Rebecca's room. He carefully removed the protective screen and opened the window. He climbed inside where the little girl lay sleeping. The Marine covered Rebecca's mouth with his hand to keep her from screaming. He lifted her from the bed and, in the darkness, carried her toward the window.

With Rebecca in his arms, Jennings rushed to his car parked nearby. He put her inside and drove to a remote area near the Girard Street Canal on Merritt Island, an isolated spot where no one would hear or see what he was about to do. Once at that secluded spot by the canal, the worst happened. Out of respect for YouTube's policies, I won't use the precise term, but Jennings did the most terrible thing you can do to a child.

The attack was so extreme that it caused Rebecca serious injuries and bruising in her area. Jennings used such force that he even ended up with bruises on his own area during the assault. Rebecca, just 6 years old, suffered unimaginable pain as this was [music] happening. But the horror didn't end there. After the assault, in what the court described as an act of inconceivable violence, Jennings grabbed Rebecca by the legs, lifted her upside down over his head, and [music] slammed her onto the ground with all his strength.

The impact was so severe that it caused an immediate skull fracture, resulting in deep and fatal brain damage. But Rebecca was still alive. Despite the catastrophic damage to her skull and brain, her small heart was still beating. Jennings then carried her toward the canal. He took the dying child and submerged her head underwater, holding her there for roughly 10 minutes, drowning her until she finally stopped breathing....Part 2 is in the comments👇👇

05/31/2026

Scientists FINALLY Entered Noah’s Ark in Turkey - What They Found Inside SHOCKED The Whole World!

What if I told you that the most famous boat in human history, the one your Sunday school teacher said was just a story, is sitting right now half buried in the mountains of eastern Turkey? Not a wooden plank, not a piece of rope, the entire vessel, over 500 ft long, pointed at one end, buried in the exact spot the Bible says it landed.

And after almost a century of denial, ridicule, and government silence, a team of scientists finally entered it. What they found inside doesn't just shake the foundations of archaeology, it rewrites the story of human civilization itself. The story begins in 1959 in the remote highlands of eastern Turkey. A Turkish army captain named Ilhan Durupinar was reviewing aerial photographs taken by his military reconnaissance unit.

He was looking for terrain anomalies. What he found was something else entirely. In a black and white photograph of the Tendürek [music] Mountains, about 18 mi south of Mount Ararat, there was a shape that shouldn't have been there, a perfect oval, smooth, symmetrical, pointed at one end, rounded at the other.

It looked like a ship, a massive ship somehow stranded thousands of feet above sea level in a region with no rivers, no [music] lakes, no coast. The photo was published in Life magazine in 1960. Most people moved on, but not everyone. In 1977, a man named Ron Wyatt walked into this [music] story. Wyatt wasn't a trained archaeologist, he was a nurse anesthetist from Tennessee with a wife, three kids, and a habit of spending every vacation in the Middle East chasing biblical artifacts.

Some called him a treasure hunter, others called him a fraud, but Ron didn't care what they called him. He'd seen the photo. He believed. Wyatt traveled to the site, a barren stretch of land near a village called Uzengili, and began to walk the formation himself. What he saw stopped him cold.

The shape wasn't just boat-like from the air. It had walls, embankments, a pointed prow. The dimensions felt strangely familiar. So, he pulled out a tape measure. 515 ft long end to [music] end. For most people, that number means nothing. For Ron Wyatt, it meant everything. Because in Genesis 6, God instructs Noah to build an ark exactly 300 cubits in length.

And by the ancient Egyptian royal cubit, the measurement used in the patriarchal era, 300 cubits comes out to almost exactly 515 ft. Coincidence? Maybe. But, Wyatt didn't believe in coincidences. Not when it came to the Bible. He started taking samples. [music] He started photographing every angle. He started telling anyone who would listen that he'd found Noah's ark.

And the world responded exactly the way you'd expect. They laughed. They dismissed him. They called him a charlatan. But, the formation kept sitting there. And almost 50 years later, a new team, armed with technology Wyatt could only have dreamed of, would finally crack it open. What they found would change everything.

So, maybe you're still skeptical. Maybe a boat-shaped hill in Turkey is just a boat-shaped hill. But, what if I told you the geometry is too perfect [music] to ignore? The Durupınar formation sits at an elevation of nearly 6,500 [music] ft. It rests on a plateau just east of Mount Tendürek in a region locals have called the place of the ship for centuries.

Long before any archaeologist arrived. Long before any photograph was taken. The name was already there. Its dimensions are unsettling. Length, 515 ft. That's 157 m. Longer than a football field. Longer than the Statue of Liberty laid on her side. And a precise match for the biblical 300 cubits. Width, 138 ft at its widest point.

The Genesis text specifies 50 cubits, which should give us something closer to 86 ft. But, here's the twist. Researchers later discovered the formation appears to have spread outward over millennia as the structure beneath collapsed. Original wall traces suggest the original beam was almost exactly biblical. Then, there's the orientation....Part 2 is in the comments👇👇

05/31/2026

Russian Girl MUMMIFIED Alive in a Sheikh’s desert villa...

This story began in July 2023 when 27-year-old Elizabetha Veronova posted a series of photos from Dubai on her profile. She was a mid-level influencer with an audience of about 180,000 followers specializing in content about travel and art. Her last post was made on July 23rd. After that, the profile went silent. No one raised the alarm.

In the influencer industry, breaks in activity were considered normal. Brands stopped collaborating. Subscribers gradually lost interest and the account slowly faded away. Voronova flew to Dubai at the invitation of a man who introduced himself as Fared al-Mansuri. He contacted her through a professional agent who worked with artists and models. The offer sounded attractive.

Participation in a private art project for a contemporary art collection. $50,000 in payment accommodation in the collector's villa. The work was supposed to take about two weeks. Voronova agreed after checking the references of the agent who had real contacts in the art world and worked with several well-known galleries in Europe.

Al-Mansuri met her at the airport in person. He was a reserved man in his 50s who spoke proper English with a British accent. He was dressed in a light colored European style suit. They were driven in a premium car with a driver. During the trip, Al-Manssouri talked about his collection. He collected contemporary art, but was particularly interested in works related to the theme of the body and its transformation.

He mentioned several well-known artists who worked in this direction. Voronova took notes. She saw this project as an opportunity to enter more serious art circles. The villa was not located in the city center, but on the outskirts in a deserted area where buildings were sparse. It was a house of modern architecture with large glass surfaces and white walls.

The territory was fenced off by a high fence. Inside, the interior was minimalist. There was a lot of light. On the walls hung works that Veronova recognized as the creations of several famous artists. Al-Mansuri showed her around the house, showed her the guest room, and explained the layout. There was practically no staff to be seen, only a driver and a cook who appeared twice a day to prepare meals.

On the first evening, they discussed the details of the project. Al-Mansuri showed her sketches and explained the concept. He wanted to create a series of photographs and video works exploring the idea of immobility and time. Voronova was to be placed in various poses wrapped in special materials resembling bandages.

He explained this as a reference to ancient Egyptian mummification practices but in a modern context. The work was to be conceptual. No eroticism or provocation, pure art. Voronova asked questions. Al-Mansuroui answered in detail and convincingly. He showed her the contract she had signed in Moscow through an intermediary. Everything looked legitimate.

Filming began the next day. Al-Mansori worked methodically. First simple poses. Veronova stood or sat while he took photos from different angles. Then he began to use materials. White strips of fabric soaked in some kind of solution. He explained that it was a special compound that created the desired texture and allowed the material to retain its shape.

The smell was faint, medicinal. Voronova did not object. Al-Mansori worked professionally without unnecessary touching, commenting on each action. The first session lasted about 3 hours. Then he unwound the bandages, thanked her for her work, and let her rest. On the third day, Al-Mansori suggested trying a more complex composition.

He wanted to fix her hands in a certain position to achieve the desired visual effect. He used thin plastic splints, which he attached under layers of fabric. Veronova felt discomfort, but not severe. Al-Mansori constantly asked if she was in pain and adjusted the tension. After the shoot, he did not immediately remove the contraption....Part 2 is in the comments👇👇

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