Celeb Exposed US, 2800 Broadway, New York, NY (2026)

06/07/2026

"Pilot Refuses to Fly With Black Teen — Minutes Later, Her CEO Dad GROUNDS The Entire Airline!

A pilot's word is law at 30,000 ft. >> Completely unacceptable. >> His authority is absolute. His decisions unquestionable. >> Captain William Reynolds voice cut through the cabin like ice. His words directed at the quiet teenager in seat 12. >> And listen to the captain. >> Young lady, I need you to gather your belongings and exit this aircraft immediately.

The words, I need your attention. We have a situation that requires your passgers. >> Conversations halted mid-sentence, heads turning toward the confrontation unfolding in the middle of the cabin. >> What they witnessed wasn't just a disagreement. It was raw, ugly prejudice wrapped in the cloak of authority.

Captain Reynolds, a decorated veteran pilot with 30 years of experience, stood tall in his crisp uniform, stars gleaming on his shoulders as he stared down at 17-year-old Zoe Bennett. But what Reynolds didn't know, what none of them knew, was that this quiet black teenager wasn't just any passenger. Zoe Bennett held a secret, a connection so powerful that within minutes she wouldn't just challenge his authority, she would ground his entire world.

This is the story of how one girl's quiet dignity toppled an empire of arrogance. The air in the jet bridge at JFK Terminal 4 carried that distinct travel scent. Recycled air conditioning mingled with the faint metallic hint of jet fuel. For 17-year-old Zoe Bennett, it was the smell of anonymity, and she savored it.

Dressed in a simple gray hoodie, dark jeans, and with a pair of well-worn Bose headphones around her neck, she blended seamlessly into the river of passengers flowing into the belly of the Pinnacle Airways Airbus A321. She was just another face in the crowd, a teenager heading to Atlanta, and that's exactly how she wanted it. Her ticket booked under the simple name Z.

Bennett was for seat 12B, a middle seat. She didn't mind. Her adoptive father, Dominic Bennett, had offered to book her in first class, but she'd refused. ""I need to see it how everyone else does, Dad,"" she had explained over the phone that morning. ""No special treatment. That's the entire point."" Dominic's voice had softened with pride."..... read more in comment 👇

06/07/2026

"Flight Attendant Accuses Black Pilot of Lying at Christmas — One Call Gets Her ARRESTED!

Step away from the aircraft. Pilots do not look like you. The words did not just fall. They detonated. Sandra Whitfield's voice cut through Boston Logan's terminal C like a controlled explosion, loud enough that three gates away, passengers stopped midstep. The holiday crowd at gate C17 froze in collective disbelief.

Christmas lights twinkled overhead in cruel irony. Joy to the world played softly through the terminal speakers, but there was no joy in this moment. Only the cold, sharp blade of prejudice slicing through the December air. Captain Nathaniel Brooks stood beneath the white airport lights still in the pilot uniform he had worn with honor for 22 years.

Four silver stripes gleamed on his shoulders, each one representing thousands of hours in the sky. Hundreds of safe landings, countless lives trusted to his steady hands. His credentials were in his grip, the documents proving he was the only person authorized to place his hands on the controls of Atlantic Sky Airlines flight 1847 to Miami.

But Sandra Whitfield saw none of that. She saw only what she wanted to see. She walked toward him, her high heels striking the polished floor in hard, deliberate beats, as if she were nailing authority into the tiles with every step. Her bleached blonde hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. Her lips pressed into a thin line of manufactured concern.

12 years with Atlantic Sky had taught her how to weaponize procedure, how to dress discrimination in the language of safety. Someone raised a phone. A lens lit up. The recording began. Sandra snatched the boarding authorization from Nate's hand before he could respond. She held the document between two fingers, examining it with exaggerated suspicion, as though it might contaminate her with its very existence.

Her nose wrinkled, her eyes narrowed to slits. ""These documents do not match our system records,"" she declared loud enough for the entire gate area to hear. I am calling security. Nate's response came measured and calm. Each word placed with the precision of a man who had learned long ago that volume was the enemy of authority. Check again. Captain Nathaniel Brooks."..... read more in comment 👇

06/07/2026

"Gilbert Postelle Executed for Killing Four Innocent People in Cold Blood | Final Meal & Last Words

Happening today, Oklahoma expected to put its death it to put to death its second death row inmate of the year. Gilbert Pastel set to be executed later this morning for the death of four people in 2005. Pastel's father and brother also involved in this murder. They say the victims were behind a motorcycle crash that badly injured Pastel's father.
Pastel's brother [music] was sentenced to life in prison. Their father declared incompetent to stand trial due to a brain injury suffered in that accident. Gilbert Pastel [music] has been on death row ever since. I want to be better for my family. I want to be somebody that they can [music] be proud of. I learned that drugs was not a good thing for me to get involved in.
I think he needs a certain amount of forgiveness. That's what Gilbert Pastel's lawyer told the parole board in December 2021. Forgiveness for what exactly? Gilbert Pastel walked up to four people on Memorial Day 2005. He made them kneel in the dirt outside a trailer park. Then he fired over 30 rounds from an AK-47 rifle into their bodies. Two of them tried to run.
[clears throat] He shot them in the back. One victim's mother never got to see her son's body. It was too riddled with bullets to view. Gilbert was 18 years old when he did this. He's now 35, sitting on death row asking for mercy. His ex*****on date is set for February 17th, 2022.
But here's what makes this case so disturbing. Gilbert didn't kill these people for money. He didn't kill them over drugs or a deal gone wrong. He killed them because his father got into a motorcycle accident and blamed the wrong person. Four innocent people massacred over something that never even happened.
But the story gets darker when you learn what happened during the actual attack and why Gilbert's own family helped him do it. Before we continue, please like this video and subscribe to True Crime Matter. You won't want to miss how this case ends. May 30th, 2005, Memorial Day, Oklahoma City. Four people were hanging out at a trailer home complex.
Donnie Swindle, James Alderson, Terry Smith, and Amy Wright. They were relaxing, probably enjoying the holiday, maybe [clears throat] grilling food or having drinks. They had no idea they were about to die. A van pulled up outside the trailer park. Four men got out. Gilbert Pastel, his brother David Pastell, their father Brad Pastel, and another man named Randall Wade Bias.
All four were armed. This wasn't a robbery. This wasn't a random attack. This was planned ex*****on. The four men stormed the property in what investigators later called a blitz attack. They moved fast and with purpose. They knew exactly what they were there to do. They rounded [music] up Donnie, James, Terry, and Amy at gunpoint.
The victims had no chance to fight back, no chance to run, no chance to call for help. The attackers forced all four victims outside into the yard. They made them walk to an open area. Then they gave them an order. Kneel. Donnie Swindle dropped to his knees. James Alderson did the same. Terry Smith knelt in the dirt. Amy Wright was terrified but complied.
They were begging for their lives. They were asking what they did wrong. They didn't understand why this was happening. Gilbert raised his AK-47 rifle and started firing. He didn't fire a few shots. He fired over 30 rounds. The sound of gunfire echoed through the trailer park. Neighbors heard it and thought it was fireworks because it was Memorial Day.
All four victims were hit multiple times. Amy Wright and James Alderson somehow managed to get up and run. Despite being shot, they tried to escape. They ran for their lives. Gilbert turned and shot them both in the back. They collapsed in the dirt. Blood poured from their wounds. They were still alive, but couldn't move anymore. Gilbert walked up to each victim and made sure they were dead.
He fired more rounds into their bodies at close range. When it was over, four people lay dead in a trailer park. Their bodies were torn apart by bullets. Blood soaked into the ground. The four attackers got back into their van and drove away like nothing happened. The entire attack lasted less than 5 minutes.
Neighbors started [music] coming outside. They saw the bodies. They started screaming and calling 911. Police arrived within minutes. What they found was a massacre. Four victims, all shot multiple times with high-powered rifles. Shell casings everywhere. Blood covering the ground. One of the officers on scene said it looked like a war zone.
Donnie Swindle's body was so damaged by bullets that his mother, Mary Joe Swindle, was told she couldn't view it. The funeral had to be closed casket. She never got to see her son one last time. James Alderson had been shot in the back while trying to flee. He died face down in the dirt. Terry Smith never even had a chance to run.
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06/07/2026

"JUST IN: Lisa Montgomery Executed — Killed Pregnant Woman and Stole Her Baby.

After spending more than 13 years on federal death row, Lisa Marie Montgomery was executed by lethal injection in the early hours of January 13th, 2021. In this video, we are going to cover her crimes, her last words, and her last meal. But to understand why the federal government had to put a 52-year-old woman to death, the first woman executed by the United States government in 67 years, we have to go back.
We have to go all the way back to the beginning. Because this story does not start with a strangled woman and a stolen baby in a small Missouri town. This story starts before Lisa Montgomery was even born. It starts in her mother's womb. And what happened inside that womb set the stage for one of the most disturbing, most heartbreaking, most complicated cases this country has ever produced.
Stay with me until the end because this one is going to challenge everything you think you know about monsters. Drop a comment when we get there. I want to know where you stand. Lisa Marie Montgomery came into the world already broken. Her mother, Judy Shaughnessy, drank heavily throughout her entire pregnancy.
Not occasionally, not on weekends, consistently, persistently, throughout the months that Lisa was forming inside her. By the time Lisa was born on February 27th, 1968 in Pierce County, Washington, the damage was already done. Doctors would later confirm what MRI scans showed clearly, organic brain damage present from birth, the direct result of her mother's drinking.
Fetal alcohol syndrome, a condition that affects impulse control, emotional regulation, the ability to connect cause and effect, the ability to fully understand consequences. Lisa entered this world with a broken brain. Through no fault of her own. Before she had drawn a single breath on her own, the world had already failed her.
Her father was severely mentally ill and abandoned the family when Lisa was still small. What he left behind was Judy, and Judy was not a woman equipped to mother anyone. She beat her children. She punished Lisa and her sister by holding them under cold water in the shower. She taped Lisa's mouth shut with duct tape when she didn't want to hear her speak, leaving her like that for hours.
Lisa learned very quickly not to cry when the tape was on her mouth. She learned it because a stuffed nose and a taped mouth meant she couldn't breathe. A toddler who has already learned that crying might kill her. According to court testimony, Lisa Montgomery's first words, the very first sentence she ever formed, were don't s***k me.
Let that land for a moment. Not mama, not dada, don't s***k me. Those were the first words of a child who had already been conditioned by pain before she could form language. Judy killed the family dog in front of the children by smashing its head with a shovel as punishment. She forced Lisa to beat her own younger sister with a board until the girl bled because Judy told her to.
And there were consequences for refusing. Lisa watched her older half-sister Diane get r***d by one of her mother's boyfriends while they shared a bed. Diane later said she would lay completely still trying not to make a sound, reaching out in the dark to hold Lisa's hand because if Lisa woke up, the man would do it to her, too. This was childhood for Lisa Montgomery.
This was normal. This was the weather she grew up in. When Lisa was in kindergarten, Judy remarried. His name was Jack Kleiner. He was described by people who knew him as an erratic, violent drunk. He beat the children regularly. He stripped them naked before he hit them. He was the kind of man who radiated danger, the kind of man that every adult in a child's life is supposed to protect them from.
Instead, he moved into Lisa's home and became the most powerful person in her world. When Lisa was around 11 years old, Jack Kleiner came into her room for the first time. He r***d her. And then he came back, and he came back again. Once or twice a week, according to court records.
He threatened her, told her if she resisted, he would do the same thing to her younger sister. So, Lisa endured it. She held still. She learned to survive by disappearing inside herself, to go somewhere else in her mind while her body was violated. Psychologists would later identify this as the beginning of her dissociation, a survival mechanism that her shattered brain developed to cope with what no human being should have to cope with.
Jack Kleiner eventually built a separate room attached to the back of their trailer. It was described in court documents and by attorneys as a room built specifically for what he intended to do in it, a place where no one could hear. He brought his friends there. Multiple men. Sometimes three at once, for hours at a time.
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06/06/2026

"Pilot Forces Black Woman to Move Seats — Freezes When She Reveals She's a Federal Commissioner

Ma'am, I'm going to need you to change seats, now. Captain Michael Reynolds' voice cut through the ambient hum of the first class cabin, his tone brooking no argument. Alexis Turner looked up from her tablet, maintaining the calm demeanor that had carried her through two decades in aviation. Her eyes met the captain's, steady and unflinching.

""No."" she replied, her voice quiet but firm. ""I am in my assigned seat."" The single syllable hung in the air. Passengers nearby froze mid-conversation. A flight attendant paused while stowing a carry-on. The predictable rhythm of pre-flight procedures stuttered to a halt. Captain Reynolds blinked, clearly not expecting resistance.

His jaw tightened beneath his perfectly trimmed salt and pepper beard. ""This isn't a request."" he said louder now. ""It's an operational necessity."" Alexis placed her tablet on the armrest, straightened in her seat, and replied with measured precision. ""Then you'll need to explain the specific operational necessity that requires me, and only me, to relocate from my assigned seat.

"" A ripple of murmurs spread through the first class cabin. A businessman in 3A glanced up from his laptop. An elderly woman across the aisle leaned forward slightly. A young man in the second row reached subtly for his phone. In that moment, what should have been a routine boarding procedure on Trans America flight 847, transformed into something else entirely, the opening move in a confrontation that would change the airline industry forever.

Alexis Turner hadn't planned on making history today. At 38, the former commercial pilot turned Federal Aviation Safety Commissioner, had boarded enough flights to recognize the familiar choreography of air travel. The weight of her credentials hidden beneath the simple designation of her title remained her own private knowledge as she settled into seat 3B."..... read more in comment 👇
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06/06/2026

"Black Teen Handcuffed Until She Bled — Flight Crew Froze When Her CEO Dad Arrived

Blood trickled down Zoe Williams's wrist as two uniformed officers dragged her through the crowded terminal of Atlanta International Airport. Their grip tightened with each of her words, metal handcuffs cutting deeper into her dark skin. All around them, passengers froze in their tracks. Phones rose in unison, dozens of strangers recording the scene in stunned silence.

a 17-year-old black girl in handcuffs, her wrists bleeding, yet her eyes remained calm, her dignity somehow intact despite the humiliation. That's her announced Heather Donovan, a blonde woman in her mid-30s wearing a crisp Meridian Airlines uniform. She stood behind the officer's arms, crossed a satisfied smirk playing across her lips.

She was being aggressive on board. We had no choice. aggressive. That single word echoed through the terminal like a slap. It was the word that had been used for generations to justify cruelty against people who had done nothing wrong except exist while black. Zoe's voice stayed steady, cutting through the chaos.

I have a valid ticket. I was seated quietly. I did nothing wrong. Each word was measured controlled even as the officers yanked her forward. What none of those recording bystanders could possibly know was that this moment, this public humiliation captured on dozens of phones, would soon flip the entire aviation industry upside down.

Because the teenager they were dragging through that terminal wasn't just anyone. She was the daughter of Xavier Williams, founder and CEO of Meridian Airlines, one of the largest commercial flight networks in America. And the moment she picked up the phone, justice would take flight. A middle-aged woman in a business suit whispered to her companion. ""This is disgusting.

What did that poor girl do?"" ""Nothing,"" replied an elderly man who had witnessed everything. ""She was just sitting there when they accused her of stealing a laptop."" ""I saw the whole thing."" As the officers pushed Zoe toward a security office, her gaze remained forward, her shoulders straight despite the pain. She had been taught her entire life, that the world would not see her brilliance first, it would see her skin."..... read more in comment 👇
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06/06/2026

"Joseph Franklin Ex*****on: Racist Serial killer | Last meal and Last Words |Missouri Death Row inmat

I threw that magazine down on the coffee table and thought, I'm going to kill that guy. Do you know how many people you murdered? Uh, yeah, but I'd rather I'd rather not mention it again. By the time police finally arrested Franklin in September 1980, at least 22 people were dead. What goes on in the mind of a racist serial killer when he wakes up knowing the state is counting down to his final breath? Does he reflect on the lives he took? Does he see their faces when he closes his eyes? Does he feel remorse or
just fear? These were the questions that haunted America in the days leading up to November 19th, 2013 when Joseph Paul Franklin, one of the nation's most prolific domestic terrorists, faced his final sunrise. In a chilling interview conducted just days before his ex*****on, Franklin sat across from a journalist inside the cold walls of Possi Correctional Center.
When asked about his victim count, he hesitated as if the number itself carried weight. He wasn't ready to acknowledge. The interviewer pressed him. 22 people, 22 lives stolen by bullets fired from the shadows. Franklin's response was unnervingly casual, almost dismissive. He confirmed the number with a shrug of indifference, as if they were discussing something mundane, something forgettable.
He claimed he wished he could change things, that if there were some way to make amends, he would try. But his words rang hollow. They weren't soaked in grief or regret. They were mechanical, rehearsed. The kind of statement a man makes when he knows he's supposed to feel something but doesn't.
Being locked up on death row with an ex*****on date just days away, he said, left him unable to do much for anyone. As if his inability to act was the real tragedy, not the 22 bodies he left behind. But it was the next question that truly revealed the emptiness inside him. When asked if he ever thought about the two young boys he murdered in Cincinnati, 13-year-old Daryl Lane and 14-year-old Dante Evans Brown, Franklin's answer was as cold as Winter Steel.
No, he didn't think about them. He couldn't afford to dwell on individual cases, he explained. He had too many other problems to focus on, too many other things occupying his mind. two children gunned down in cold blood and to him they were just names on a list he preferred not to revisit. When reminded that they were just boys barely teenagers, his response was a single flat acknowledgement.
No apology, no reflection, just a cold, emotionless confirmation that yes, he remembered they were young. And that was it. This was Joseph Paul Franklin, a man who spent over three years from 1977 to 1980 traveling across the United States like a phantom, hunting people based purely on the color of their skin or their faith.
He targeted in*******al couples, Jewish families, civil rights activists, and even children. He didn't kill in bursts of rage or moments of passion. His murders were calculated, methodical, planned weeks, and sometimes months in advance. He would scout locations, study his targets, position himself at a distance with a high-powered rifle, and fire.
Then he'd disappear before anyone even knew what happened. For years, no one could stop him because no one knew who he was. By November 2013, Franklin had been sitting on death row for over three decades. 33 years of appeals, legal motions, and courtroom battles. 33 years of claiming he had changed, that he had found religion, that he no longer believed in the hatred that once defined him.
But his words in that final interview told a different story. They revealed a man who, even at the edge of death, couldn't summon the humanity to acknowledge the suffering he caused. On November 19th, 2013, inside a windowless cell at Possi Correctional Center in Missouri, Joseph Paul Franklin opened his eyes to something he had avoided his entire life.
Accountability. The man who once believed he was carrying out a divine mission of racial purity had finally run out of road. There would be no last minute pardon, no dramatic rescue, no final twist to save him. just the quiet inevitable march toward the ex*****on chamber. And so death watch began.
This wasn't just a procedure. It was the state's way of ensuring that Franklin's final hours were monitored, controlled, and documented with absolute precision. Two officers stood outside his cell around the clock. The lights stayed on. Cameras recorded his every movement. There were no shadows left to hide in, no corners where he could retreat into his twisted ideology.
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06/05/2026

"Flight Attendant Slaps Black Doctor — Freezes When Her Husband, The Airline's Owner, Walks In

A single sharp sound cut through the hushed murmur of the first class cabin on Horizon Airways flight 217 from London to New York. It wasn't the clink of crystal or the pop of a champagne cork. It was the raw ugly sound of flesh meeting flesh. Every head turned. There in the aisle stood Diane Miller, a senior flight attendant with a face like thunder, her hand still raised.

Before her recoiling and stunned silence, was Dr. Zoe Williams, a passenger whose only provocations were her dark skin, her serene composure, and the gentle swell of her seven-month pregnancy. In that frozen moment, nobody knew the shocking truth. The woman who had just been slapped was married to the man who signed every single one of their paychecks.

Zoe Williams asked her voice soft but clear as she gestured to the spacious first class suite. Her 7-month pregnant belly was visible beneath her elegant maternity dress a simple navy blue design that complimented her warm brown skin. The gleaming interior of Horizon Airways Flight 217 from London to New York was a masterpiece of luxury design.

The firstass cabin resembled a five-star hotel, more than an airplane with private suites featuring sliding doors, handcrafted leather seats that converted to fully flat beds, and polished wood surfaces that reflected the ambient lighting. The gate agent, checking Zoe's boarding pass, nodded respectfully.

Yes, Dr. Williams. Welcome aboard. His eyes flickered briefly to her name on the manifest, a momentary hesitation that Zoe had become attuned to recognizing that split second of recalibration when someone encountered her title and had to adjust their initial assumptions. Zoe thanked him and made her way to her suite.

At 36, she carried herself with the quiet confidence that came from years as one of the nation's leading pediatric cardiothoracic surgeons. The medical conference in London, where she'd just delivered the keynote address, had been a triumph, but exhausting. ""Just a few more hours,"" she whispered to herself as she settled into the plush leather seat.

She placed a protective hand over her rounded belly, feeling the reassuring movement beneath. Zoe arranged her carry-on items, placing her medical journal on the side table and her phone in the charging port. She slipped off her comfortable but elegant flats and reclined slightly, finally acknowledging the bone deep fatigue from the past days."..... read more in comment 👇
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06/05/2026

"JUST IN: Texas Executes Franklin Alix — He Killed 4 People During a 5-Month Houston Crime Spree

On the evening of March 30th, 2010, in a small sterile room inside the Huntsville Unit in Huntsville, Texas, a 34-year-old man named Franklin DeWayne Alex was strapped to a gurney by corrections officers. His arms were extended out to his sides. Tubes were inserted into his veins. A curtain on the other side of a glass window was pulled back.
And in the witness room beyond it sat two families. The mother and sister of a 23-year-old man named Eric Bridgeford. The father and sister of a 34-year-old man named Christopher Thomas. Both families had driven to Huntsville that evening for the same reason. They needed to watch it end. Franklin Alex looked toward the window where his own witnesses sat.
Friends, people who had known him before all of this. And he opened his mouth and spoke his last words on this earth. He said he was not the monster they had painted him to be. He said he had made lots of mistakes that took their son. He said he had messed up and made poor choices. He said he would take it to the grave.
He said he had peace in his heart. At 6:13 in the evening, the drugs entered his system. At 6:20 p.m., 7 minutes later, Franklin DeWayne Alex was pronounced dead. He declined a last meal now. Before we talk about what kind of man ends up strapped to that gurney at 34 years old, before we talk about four murders and two rapes and six-month crime spree that terrorized the southwest side of Houston, Texas, we need to talk about where this story actually begins.
Because the beginning of this story is not a parking lot. It is not a stolen car. It is not a gun. The beginning of this story is a little boy standing in a church choir in Harris County, Texas singing gospel music while the congregation clapped along. That boy's name was Franklin Dwayne Alex and he was born on August 6th, 1975 in Harris County, Texas.
He grew up in what he himself described as a strict household. His family was serious about their faith. Church was not an occasional Sunday morning obligation in his home. Church was the center of life. The kind of church where you go on Sunday morning, Sunday evening, Wednesday night, and every other occasion the doors are open.
Franklin was not just a face in the pew. He was active. He sang in the choir, which means he rehearsed. He showed up. He stood in front of a congregation and lifted his voice alongside other children and adults who took that music seriously. And he taught Sunday school. Think about what that means. This was a child who stood in front of younger children and taught them scripture, explained right from wrong.
Explained what God expected of the people he made. That is not a boy being dragged reluctantly through religious obligation. That is a boy who was embedded in a moral community, who was trusted with the spiritual education of other children, who by every external measure was being shaped into something good. And then something went wrong.
Something that the official record never fully explains. There is no documented abuse in Franklin Alex's case file. There is no single traumatic event the courts pointed to. No expert witness who explained on a stand the precise moment the trajectory changed. The record goes quiet on his childhood and picks back up again when he is 17 years old and already in trouble.
That silence, that gap between the choir boy and the criminal, is one of the most disturbing things about this entire case because it offers no comfort. It offers no clean explanation we can point to and say, ""Well, it just happened and we have to sit with that."" What we know is this. By the early 1990s, Franklin Alex was a teenager in Houston, Texas and the strict household and the church choir and the Sunday school classroom had not been enough to hold him.
In September of 1992, when Franklin was 17 years old, he decided to steal a bus. Not a car, not a bicycle, a full-size Alamo shuttle bus. He climbed behind the wheel and drove it and when the police spotted him and tried to pull him over, he did not stop. He led them on a 10-minute high-speed chase through the streets of Houston before they finally got him.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, stealing a bus is almost absurd. It sounds like the kind of story that gets told at family gatherings with disbelief and laughter. But the courts did not laugh. They gave Franklin Alex 6 months for theft and sent him home. 6 months. He was 17 and he had led police on a chase in a stolen commercial bus and they gave him 6 months.
The lesson that teaches a 17-year-old is not the lesson the system intended. He served the 6 months and walked out and laid low for about a month because on April 8th, 1993, barely 30 days after his feet hit free ground, Franklin Alex was back at it. This time he drove through a residential neighborhood in Houston and spotted a woman's car sitting in her driveway.
She was inside her house getting ready to go somewhere. He walked up to her driveway in broad daylight, got in her car, and drove away. The woman came outside, found her car gone, and called the police. Later that same day, Houston police spotted the car with Franklin behind the wheel, pulled him over, and arrested him on the spot.
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Celeb Exposed US

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