Danger

IT'S A GAME children call "cutting the cake," and for a lot of motorists it's not a very funny sport. In fact, it can be downright unnerving.It's when youngsters or students -- usually of the middle or high school variety -- encroach upon traffic while crossing the street and dare motorists to hit them.Sandra Carroll faces this game by students from William H. Lemmel Middle School in her daily travels on Dukeland Street in front of the West Baltimore school."They walk right out from [Hanlon Park]

Along with his four Super Bowl victories, Hall of Fame quarterback Joe Montana is probably best remembered as an imperturbable, clutch performer with proverbial ice water in his veins. A few years ago, though, the unflappable Montana discovered that what coursed through his veins - blood at a dangerously high pressure - was a greater threat than any NFL defense ever posed. "I was the typical American in that I liked all the things that are bad for you, and not only did I like them but I liked them doubled," Montana said yesterday during a stop in Baltimore to publicize blood pressure awareness and treatment.

Any good marketing executive knows that a trek down Hollywood Boulevard is often the best way to reach the MTV Generation. That's why it's no coincidence that early versions of the Sidekick II - a handheld communications device targeted at on-the-go 20-somethings - are being carried around by Jennifer Aniston, Justin Timberlake, Paris Hilton and other A-list celebrities. While the Hollywood buzz is exciting for Danger, the Palo Alto, Calif., startup that developed the technology behind the wireless device, the champagne isn't flowing at its offices just yet. The four-year-old privately held company is heading into unknown territory by pursuing a business model that leaves its fate in someone else's hands - notably wireless carriers - and targeting a slice of the consumer market that has yet to show its love for a device that doubles as a cell phone and Internet machine.

WASHINGTON -- It's a tale of intrigue that has percolated for much of the summer: A congressman claims the Pentagon squelched crucial information about the man who became the lead 9/11 terrorist, then destroyed related documents while the 9/11 Commission turned a blind eye. The trouble is that neither Rep. Curt Weldon, nor those who support his claims, have been able to document their central allegation: that a secret Pentagon program dubbed Able Danger...

IT COULD be a midlife crisis, or the sense of middle-age that sets in when the second kid arrives. Maybe it's because he no longer gets to drive his own car and may never put on a football helmet again. Whatever the reason, Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. has been cultivating the air of danger that has been circulating around his administration of late. Danger has become the modus operandi. Dangerous words. Dangerous deeds. Government by adrenaline. The thrill-seeking became evident when, Ehrlich, 46, delivered his first major address after the close of the 2004 General Assembly session.

Two federal judges in Baltimore rejected government efforts yesterday to detain a Jordanian charged in a large-scale visa fraud probe, saying the fact that he lived briefly with two of the Sept. 11 hijackers did not make him a dangerous suspect. U.S. Magistrate Judge Susan K. Gauvey said the government had "unfairly" tried to associate Rasmi Al-Shannaq with the terror attacks, and she ordered that he could be released under 24-hour electronic monitoring at his family's home in Southeast Baltimore.

A country so long complacent about young death in the ghetto has finally been jerked awake by the terrible news out of Kentucky, Mississippi, Arkansas and Washington state, where freckle-faced kids too young to drive are old enough to gun down their classmates. Suddenly, the argument about parental responsibility has a dark urgency that slams academic debate to the sidelines.Experts have long maintained that parental actions - or the lack of them - are central to shaping a child. This is an awesome mandate in the best of times, but when dysfunction increasingly means violence, there's a rush to diffuse responsibility.

On her way to get a protective order against her husband, Veronica Williams drove by the home where their marriage had fallen apart - where he had attacked her with scissors and cut off her hair. The District Court was just five blocks from their North Avenue rowhouse. She believed her husband had abandoned it to elude arrest for domestic violence. She had decided to end her nine-year marriage, but on this day, a final series of coincidences and missed opportunities would lead to her death.

CEDARVILLE, Calif. -- Marooned with her baby in a frigid cave, Jennifer Stolpa listened through three days and nights for the rescuers she feared would never come. Instead she heard the howls of coyotes, a terrifying sound that seemed to draw nearer by the hour.The food -- fruitcake, coconut cookies and a few tortilla chips -- had run out long before, and now on Wednesday her breast milk was gone as well. Melting ice in her mouth and feeding her infant son the liquid like a bird, she fought the mounting panic and wondered: Would they freeze first, or starve?

We've all seen it on TV: A criminal is convicted and immediately led out of the courtroom, usually in handcuffs, and on to prison. That's the way the justice system works, right? Not always. When it comes to white-collar crime, federal judges and even prosecutors can seem a little soft on sentencing and detention, allowing convicted criminals relatively liberal latitude in when they begin serving time. In some cases, it can take months before a criminal is made to report for prison.