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Firsthand stories emerge as Weeks trial continues

Prosecutors asked Pitkin County Deputy Parichat Robles outright why she didn’t shoot the fleeing suspects who had jumped from a RFTA bus emergency exit near Basalt during her trial testimony Monday.
“I wasn’t going to shoot somebody that wasn’t a threat to me,” Robles said flatly.
Nicholas Ameral, 20, pleaded guilty to felony aggravated robbery with an armed confederate in July. He was on a downvalley Roaring Fork Transportation Authority bus on Feb. 21 last year, five days after robbing the Valero gas station in the Carbondale Cowen Center. Ameral received a six-year prison sentence; his alleged accomplice was his cousin, Benjamin Weeks, 20.

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Rolling into 2018 via aikido

Mike Jones, chief instructor at Roaring Fork Aikikai, first got into aikido exactly because it’s a martial art that requires more art than actual combat. That’s not to say it doesn’t pack a punch; at the end of our 90-minute class, he showed me a quick, seemingly effortless move that had me on my knees in an instant.
“One of the reasons I got into aikido [is] there’s no yelling.

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As Luckett would have it

It has a 15-million person following in 180 countries. And in many ways thanks to William Luckett, a junior at Roaring Fork High School, Carbondale is quickly adding to the Zumba fever.
The 17-year-old is no stranger to movement — he studies ballet, tap, jazz and contemporary dance — so when he fell in love with Zumba, it wasn’t surprising. He realized he wanted more than just participate: he wanted to teach.

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Pages of the Past: Crumbling mansions and affordable housing

Jan. 5, 1978: “The brick house” — arguably the grandest ranch home in the Valley when 300 people arrived on a chartered train for the housewarming in 1908 — was in the process of demolition. Built by Charles Harris (The Journal calls him Davis), one of the lower valley’s first settlers, it cost $12,000 and included 18 rooms, six foot wide stairs, 10 foot ceilings on the first two of three floors and gingerbread ornamentation throughout.

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Into a bit of a pickle(ball)

I’d been wanting to try my hand (or foot?) at pickleball since I first heard mention of the sport a few years ago. I had no idea how it was played, but with a name like “pickleball,” I assumed it would emphasize fun over finesse, trial and error over technique, recreation over rules, and community over competition. In short — as anyone who has ever attempted to play soccer or tennis with me would attest — my kind of sport.