"In a small county in rural Tennessee, inmates were offered 30 days off their sentences in exchange for a vasectomy or a long-acting birth control implant. County officials say it was a tool in the fight against opiate abuse - opponents call it eugenics."
"At some point a tall, thin man appears in their midst, dressed in papery green hospital scrubs - an ID bracelet on his tattooed wrist and EKG leads still stuck to his chest. He picks up a poster and holds it high in the air.
'I got shot last night,' he says, pointing to a piece of gauze taped to his right cheek. 'I still got two bullets left in me.'
His name is Devrone McKnight - the 23-year-old was driving himself home from the hospital when he saw the ceasefire volunteers by the side of the road. He says he's ashamed. He'd heard about the ceasefire effort but had made no plans to participate.
'Now I'm a victim,' he says. 'From now on, I'm supporting this.'"
"On 5 July, Sandra Sterling lay awake in her bed nearly the entire night.
'At 1:30 this morning, you'll never know what I went through,' she said later.
Before the sun rose on 6 July, Diamond Reynolds also could not sleep.
'The first thing I did was think, 'Phil's not here,'' she said. 'Last year we was waking up together around this time.'
And in the wee hours of 7 July, Abigail Irizarry, a dispatcher for the Dallas Police Department, was also struggling.
'I woke up early and it was kind of hard seeing everything on the news all over again,' she said. 'The footage of what happened.'"
"The Supreme Court decisions that freed David have no effect on his brother's case. On the day that the murder took place, Sammy Maldonado was 18 years, four months and 10 days old - legally speaking, an adult.
Even though it was David who stabbed Steven Monahan, in the eyes of the law, Sammy's age of 18 automatically classified him as a fully mature adult, capable of making the same decisions as a 40-year-old, while his brother was a juvenile with a still-developing brain who required special consideration.
'Sammy didn't do the stabbing, he got beat up - but he was 18 years,' says Michael Wiseman, a lawyer for both men. 'He is far less culpable than David.'"
"They call it 'the city without a zip code'. Sixty-one cars and a little over a mile long, the Ringling Bros and Barnum & Bailey train is still the primary residence for most of the 107 performers and crew on the Red Unit, one of two remaining touring shows. There are 32 coaches divided into apartments of varying sizes, with as many as 16 people per car sleeping on narrow bunks. The youngest children sleep in the same car with their parents. Some of the families even keep cats and dogs."
Inside the final days of the Greatest Show On Earth.
"Trump's order, now eight hours old, had not been uploaded to the White House website. As the family checked in, no one questioned their visas or their Iraqi passports.
As they waited for their first flight from Baghdad to Istanbul, Munther dashed off texts to his sponsors and former colleagues from USAID.
'I'm so scared ... I don't know what we will face and I don't know if the officer at Istanbul will let us board on the Airplane,' he wrote in one message. 'Right now the only feeling i have is fear.
'Please pray for us.'"
"The night before, the mayor of tiny Talladega and a crowd of about 100 well-wishers cheered as the buses pulled out of town. It was a loving send-off that contrasted sharply with the treatment the band had faced in previous weeks.
Several other high schools and colleges, including historically black institutions like Howard University, declined the invitation or didn't even apply to play at Donald Trump's inauguration.
As soon as it was announced that the Marching Tornadoes was the sole black college to accept, they were called sell-outs, race traitors and worse."
"As it turns out Trump's voters were not silent or invisible - Trump's voters are Barletta voters. They're the struggling white working class who felt that for eight years their lives have only gotten harder, their needs shuffled to the bottom of a pile on some desk in Washington DC. They've been here the whole time, waiting for a candidate like Trump to sweep them off their feet.
'I think we're going to see America great again,' Barletta said."
"Since they were little boys, Castile and his three best friends could reliably be found on the same rickety porch in the Summit-University neighbourhood of St Paul, Minnesota. It is cluttered with mismatched and broken chairs, old fence posts, a grill. But it always provided a perfect perch from which they could survey the goings-on in the neighbourhood.
'This is the safe zone,' explained Rayshawn Jackson."
While critics mocked Kaepernick for being a multi-millionaire complaining about injustice, teams like the Woodrow Wilson Tigers - which is made up entirely of black and Hispanic players, in a school where 85% of the students qualify for the state's free lunch programme - are actually living in places where, for a number of social and economic factors, the odds for success are stacked against them.
"I think it is indisputable that if you are born black and Latino in a city like Camden you have a far steeper mountain to climb to enjoy the same freedoms as the rest of our country," says Paymon Rouhanifard, the Camden City School District superintendent.
When he was 22 years old, Winrow was arrested in his mother's home in Los Angeles, California, with 151.9 grams of crack cocaine, a scale, a gun and $3,209 (£2,444) in cash. It was not his first bust - he had been arrested three times over the course of three months with tiny amounts of the same drug, and admitted he was a dealer.
Winrow was sentenced to life in prison under a brand new law. He was the first person in the US to be charged under the Anti-Drug Abuse Law of 1988, one of the cornerstones of Reagan's "war on drugs".
Even in death, Ali's legacy remains tied to Louisville's west side. Bailey says that - with thousands of people descending on Louisville for the funeral and the city rising to the occasion of international attention - he hopes lasting change will follow Ali's death.
"The spotlight is not just on Kentucky or on Louisville, but on a predominantly African-American part of Louisville that, even locally, is forgotten," he says.
"Nothing identifies tour guides like Craig as different from the other staff roaming the halls of the prison. There is no special signage or promotion of their tours anywhere. After a year of planning, hiring and training, the tours began without announcement or fanfare in March.
'We are in new territory, uncharted territory,' says Lauren Zalut, Eastern State's director of education and tour programmes, who leads the new group. 'No other museums really around the country are doing work like this.'"
"Instead of getting dragged through a jury trial, something surprising happened. Moreland's lawyer Kristi Flint told the St Clair County state's attorney office that her client was innocent. In response, the prosecutor offered Moreland the chance to take a polygraph test. Flint nervously agreed, and Moreland passed. Six months after her arrest, the charges were dropped. Everyone, including the Fairview Heights police department, agrees that Moreland is innocent."
"David Mahoney is $21,000 (£13,650) in debt. Not from credit cards. Not from school loans.
He's accumulated the massive tab because of the days he spent locked up in the local jail in Marion, Ohio, which is a small town with a major heroin epidemic. Mahoney, a lanky 41-year-old, has struggled with addiction since he was a teenager, eventually stealing to fuel his habit. He got caught a lot, even burgling the same bar twice."
In St. Peter's Cemetery in north St. Louis County, Michael Brown is buried alongside many other young, black victims of violence. Their lives mattered, too.
"Within a roughly 30-metre radius of Michael's grave there are at least 15 homicide victims. The youngest was a 15-year-old. Most of them were shot. There are also deaths by suicide, cancer, car accidents, but for those under the age of 30, the predominant cause of death is homicide."
"Stewart listens attentively as Geraghty-Rathert explains her predicament once more. She is serving two concurrent life sentences for first-degree kidnapping: one without the possibility of parole in Iowa and one with parole in Missouri. Despite the fact that she told the police who arrested her in 1994 that she was beaten, and her life -- and that of her one-and-a-half-year-old child -- threatened if she did not participate in the crimes, she was charged the same as her much older, male co-defendants who orchestrated the kidnapping and murder of two elderly women. Neither the threats nor the violence against Stewart were used as a defense strategy by her attorneys. Now, she's trying to convince the governors of two states to grant her clemency, which is an executive power to pardon, lessen or change an inmate's prison sentence."
An assortment of breaking news posts about the death of eighteen-year-old Michael Brown and the unrest in Ferguson, Missouri. For a complete archive of all our coverage of Ferguson by the staff at the Riverfront Times, click here.
September 2013: "For more than a decade, Anderson was supposed to have been in a Missouri prison cell. Instead, through some kind of massive procedural screwup, he was out walking among us. Finding him would have been a trivially easy task for police: He was possibly the worst fugitive of all time. He didn't change his name. He didn't leave town. In fact, his address is just two blocks away from the last one the court system had for him. It is where he built his house from the ground up — the home with the granite countertops and the trampoline out back. He registered his contracting business with the secretary of state to that address."
June 2013: "The fact that Illinois and Missouri's prisons have become a farm team of sorts for Forest Park only explains part of the reason why the crowd here — sometimes 30 or 40 deep, drinking beers, smoking, shelling peanuts between games — stands out compared to the preppy joggers trotting past. Beyond the former inmates, the courts have always attracted an eclectic mix: restaurateurs, doctors, lawyers, Imo's delivery drivers, construction workers, entrepreneurs, prison guards and the unemployed. Forest Park even (very occasionally) lures the man some consider the greatest handballer to ever live, St. Louis' own David Chapman.
Three decades ago the handball community in Forest Park was forever changed when one of its own was gunned down as he left the courts. Today the man's killer is a frequent visitor to the Forest Park courts, though he hides his identity from the handball players who continue to tell the story of the 1979 murder in almost mythic terms. But more on that later."