Man accused of killing 22 women killed in prison, rapper Jeezy files for divorce, and more news from the week

DALLAS — A man accused of killing nearly two dozen older women and who was convicted last year in the slayings of two was killed Tuesday morning by his cellmate at a Texas prison, an official said.

Billy Chemirmir, 50, was found dead in his cell, said Texas Department of Criminal Justice spokeswoman Hannah Haney. She said that Chemirmir's cellmate, who is serving a sentence for murder, was identified as the assailant, but said she couldn't release the cellmate's identity or how Chemirmir was killed.

Authorities said Chemirmir preyed on older women in the Dallas area over a two-year span, killing them and stealing their valuables. He was caught after a 91-year-old woman survived an attack in 2018 and told police Chemirmir had forced his way into her apartment at an independent living community for seniors, tried to smother her with a pillow and took her jewelry.

Police said they found Chemirmir the following day in the parking lot of his apartment complex holding jewelry and cash, having just thrown away a large red jewelry box. Documents in the jewelry box led them to the home of Lu Thi Harris, 81, who was found dead in her bedroom.

The first capital murder trial of Chemirmir for the slaying of Harris ended in mistrial in Dallas County. He was later convicted in a second trial for Harris' death and then convicted of a second killing in the death of Mary Brooks, 87.

Following his second conviction, family members of those Chemirmir was accused of killing gathered at a Dallas courthouse to face him. In Ellen French House's victim impact statement, she told Chemirmir, who was wearing a striped jail uniform, that she wanted him to see two photos of her mother: one of Norma French alive, the other after the 85-year-old was killed.

"This is my beautiful mother," House said as she displayed the first photo. "This is my mother after you pried her wedding ring off of her finger that she couldn't even get off."

Chemirmir had been indicted on 22 capital murder charges. Thirteen of the charges were in Dallas County while nine were in Collin County. Collin County prosecutors said last month that after the two convictions in Dallas County, they would n ot seek the death penalty in their cases.

Chemirmir, who maintained his innocence, was serving two sentences of life without the possibility of parole. He was imprisoned at the Coffield Unit in Tennessee Colony, located about 100 miles southeast of Dallas.

Haney said that the Office of Inspector General is investigating his death.

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This story has been corrected to show that Chemirmir was indicted in the deaths of 22 women, not 18 women.

A look at some of the most notorious serial killers in the US since 1970

1970-2005: Samuel Little

February-May 1971: Juan Corona

1972-1978: John Wayne Gacy

1974-1991: Dennis Rader

1975-1998: Robert L. Yates Jr.

1976-1977: David Berkowitz

1976-1986: Joseph James DeAngelo

1977-1978: Angelo Buono Jr. and Kenneth A. Bianchi

1977-1978: Ted Bundy

1978-1992: Jeffrey Dahmer

1978-1995: Theodore Kaczynski

1979-1981: Wayne B. Williams

1983: Henry Lee Lucas

1984-1985: Richard Ramirez

1984-1985: Charles Ng and Leonard Lake

1985-2007: Lonnie David Franklin Jr.

1989-1990: Aileen Wuornos

1989-1993: Joel Rifkin

1990-1993: Heriberto Seda

1997-1999: Ángel Maturino Reséndiz

2002: Lee Boyd Malvo and John Allen Muhammad

2005-2006: Mark Goudeau

2007-2009: Anthony Sowell

2014: Darren Deon Vann

AUSTIN, Texas (AP) — Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton was acquitted Saturday of all charges at a historic impeachment trial that divided Republicans over whether to remove a powerful defender of former President Donald Trump after years of scandal and criminal charges.

The verdict reaffirmed Paxton’s durability in America’s biggest red state and is a broader victory for Texas’ hard right after an extraordinary trial that put on display fractures within the GOP nationally heading into the 2024 elections. In the end, Paxton was fully cleared by Senate Republicans, who serve alongside his wife, state Sen. Angela Paxton.

Angela Paxton was not allowed to vote. But she attended all two weeks of the trial, including the reading of the verdict, when all but two of her fellow 18 Republican senators consistently voted to acquit her husband on 16 impeachment articles that accused him of misconduct, bribery and corruption.

Ken Paxton, who was absent for most of the proceedings, did not attend the verdict.

The Senate also voted to dismiss four impeachment articles that weren’t taken up at the trial. It clears the way for Paxton to reclaim his role as Texas’ top lawyer, more than three months after his stunning impeachment in the Texas House forced him to temporarily step aside.

The outcome far from ends Paxton’s troubles. He still faces trial on felony securities fraud charges, remains under a separate FBI investigation and is in jeopardy of losing his ability to practice law in Texas because of his baseless attempts to overturn the 2020 election.

For the rest of the story:

KABUL, Afghanistan — The odd device draws curious onlookers everywhere. From the outside, it resembles little more than a large black box on a tripod. Inside lies its magic: a hand-made wooden camera and darkroom in one.

As a small crowd gathers around the box camera, images of beauty and of hardship ripple to life from its dark interior: a family enjoying an outing in a swan boat on a lake; child laborers toiling in brick factories; women erased by all-covering veils; armed young men with fire in their eyes.

Sitting for a portrait in a war-scarred Afghan village, a Taliban fighter remarks: "Life is much more joyful now." For a young woman in the Afghan capital, forced out of education because of her gender, the opposite is true: "My life is like a prisoner, like a bird in a cage."

The instrument used to record these moments is a kamra-e-faoree, or instant camera. They were a common sight on Afghan city streets in the last century — a fast and easy way to make portraits, especially for identity documents. Simple, cheap and portable, they endured amid half a century of dramatic changes in this country — from a monarchy to a communist takeover, from foreign invasions to insurgencies — until 21st-century digital technology rendered them obsolete.

Using this nearly disappeared homegrown art form to document life in post-war Afghanistan, from Herat in the west and Kandahar in the south to Kabul in the east and Bamiyan in the center, produced hundreds of black-and-white prints that reveal a complex, sometimes contradictory narrative.

A CLOSER LOOK AT THE PROJECT:

Made over the course of a month, the images underscore how in the two years since U.S. troops pulled out and the Taliban returned to power, life has changed dramatically for many Afghans — whereas for others, little has changed over the decades, regardless of who was in power.

A tool of a bygone era, the box camera imparts a vintage, timeless quality to the images, as if the country's past is superimposed over its present, which in some respects, it is.

At first glance the faded black-and-white, sometimes slightly out-of-focus images convey an Afghanistan frozen in time. But that aesthetic is deceiving. These are reflections of the country very much as it is now.

SEE THE FULL PHOTO COLLECTION:

Photos: A new view of life under the Taliban emerges

AN UNEASY RELATIONSHIP WITH THE CAMERA

During their first stint in power from 1996 to 2001, the Taliban banned photography of humans and animals as contrary to the teachings of Islam. Many box cameras were smashed, though some were quietly tolerated, Afghan photographers say. But it was the advent of the digital age that sounded the device's death knell.

"These things are gone," said Lutfullah Habibzadeh, 72, a former kamra-e-faoree photographer in Kabul. "Digital cameras are on the market, and (the old ones) are out of use." Habibzadeh still has his old box camera, a relic of the last century passed down to him by his photographer father. It no longer works, but he has lovingly preserved its red leather coating, decorated with sample photos.

On Afghan city streets today, billboard advertisements have faces spray-painted out, and clothing store windows display mannequins with their heads wrapped in black plastic bags, to adhere to the renewed ban on the depictions of faces.

But the advent of the internet age and of smartphones have made a ban on photography impossible to impose. The novel sight of an old box camera elicits excitement and curiosity – even among those who police the new rules. From foot soldiers to high-ranking officials, many Taliban were happy to pose for box camera portraits.

Outside a warehouse in Kabul, a group of men watch intently as the camera is set up. At first, they seem shy. But as the first portraits emerge, curiosity overtakes their reservations. Soon, they're smiling and joking as they wait to have their photos taken, pitching in to help when a black cloth backdrop slips off the wall. As each man steps forward for his portrait, set jaws replace tentative smiles. Adjusting their grip on their assault rifles, they look straight into the camera's tiny lens and hold their poses.

Most of these men joined the Taliban as teenagers or in their early 20s and have known nothing but war. They were drawn to the fundamentalist movement because of their fervent Muslim faith – and their determination to expel U.S. and NATO troops who invaded their country and propped up two decades of Afghan governments that failed to crack down on rampant corruption and crime.

Bahadur Rahaani, a 52-year-old Taliban member with piercing light blue eyes beneath his black turban, says he's happy to see the Taliban back in power. With them in government, "Afghanistan will be rebuilt," he says. "Without them, it is not possible."

PEACE, AT A PRICE

Two years after Taliban militias swept across the country to seize power again, there are strong echoes of life as it was before U.S.-led NATO forces toppled them from government in 2001.

Once more, the country is ruled by a fundamentalist movement that has restored many of the strict rules it imposed in the 1990s. The first Taliban regime was notorious for destroying art and cultural patrimony it deemed un-Islamic, such as the giant ancient buddhas carved into cliffs in Bamiyan. They imposed brutal punishments, chopping off hands of thieves, hanging supposed blasphemers in public squares and stoning women accused of adultery.

Once again, executions and lashings are back. Music, movies, dancing and performances are banned, and women are again excluded from nearly all public life, including education and all but a few professions.

The return to fundamentalist policies has chased away Western donors, aid workers and trade partners. Poverty has spiraled to crisis levels, fueled by the ban on women working, deep cuts in foreign aid and international sanctions. But there is nearly universal relief that the relentless bloodshed of the past four decades of invasions, multiple insurgencies and civil war has largely ceased.

There are still sporadic bombings, most attributed to enemies of the Taliban, the extremist group Islamic State-Khorasan Province, or IS-K. But Afghans interviewed say their country is more peaceful than they've known for decades.

The United Nations recorded 1,095 civilians killed in deliberate attacks between Aug. 15, 2021, when the Taliban reclaimed power, through May 30, 2023. That's a fraction of the annual civilian death toll over two decades of war between U.S.-led NATO forces and insurgents.

Even those who dislike the current regime say banditry, kidnapping and corruption, which were rampant under the previous governments, have been largely reined in.

But less crime and violence does not necessarily translate to prosperity and happiness.

WOMEN, ERASED

In a three-story building tucked in a Kabul alleyway, a group of women work silently at a loom. Zamarod's hands move swiftly, nimble fingers flitting between strands of yarn as she knots colored wool around them, making a carpet. Her movements are rapid, almost brusque, but her voice is soft and sad. "My life is like a prisoner," she says. "Like a bird in a cage."

The 20-year-old had been studying computer science, but the Taliban banned women from universities before she could graduate. Now she and her 23-year-old sister work in a carpet factory, falling back on a skill their mother taught them as children. They are among very few women who can earn money outside the home and, like others, asked that only their first names be used for fear of retribution for speaking out.

Women have experienced the starkest changes since the Taliban's return. They must adhere to a strict dress code, are banned from most jobs and denied simple pleasures such as visiting a park or going to a restaurant. Girls can no longer attend school beyond sixth grade, and women must be escorted by a male relative to travel.

For all intents and purposes, women have been being erased from public life.

Even in this environment, Zamarod hasn't given up on her dream of graduating. "We have to have hope. We hope that one day we will be free, that freedom is possible," she says. "That's why we live and breathe."

In another room, 50-year-old Hakima is introducing her teenage daughter Freshta to weaving. It is their only way of eking out a living, though she still dreams her 16-year-old daughter will someday become a doctor. "Afghanistan has gone backwards," she says, donning an all-encompassing burka to pose for a portrait. "People go door to door for a piece of bread and our children are dying."

While the clock has turned back for women who've lost financial independence and a voice in public life and government, in conservative, tribal parts of the country, expectations for women have always been different and have changed little over the years — even during U.S. and NATO military presence.

Even so, education is a priority for many Afghans. In dozens of interviews across the country, nearly everyone — including some members of the Taliban — said they wanted girls and women to be educated. Most said they believed the education ban was temporary, and that older girls would eventually be allowed back into schools. They say keeping girls and women confined at home doesn't help the country, or its economy.

"We need doctors, teachers," says Haji Muhibullah Aloko, a 34-year-old teacher in the village of Tabin, west of Kandahar. Women must be educated "so that Afghanistan improves in every sector."

The international community has withheld recognition of the Taliban and pressed its leadership to roll back their restrictions on women — to no avail.

"That is up to Afghans and not foreigners, they shouldn't get involved," Taliban government spokesman Zabiullah Mujahid says during an interview in Kandahar, the birthplace of the movement in southern Afghanistan and a stronghold of conservative values.

"We are waiting for the right moment regarding the schools. And while the schools are closed now, they won't be forever," he says. He won't give a timeline but insists "the world shouldn't use this as an excuse" not to recognize the Taliban government.

VICTORIOUS INSURGENTS

The village of Tabin lies deep in the Arghandab River valley, a fertile swath of fruit orchards and irrigation canals cutting through Kandahar Province's dusty desert.

But around it, the remnants of war are everywhere. The derelict remains of American combat outposts have faded warnings of mines and grenades spraypainted on their wind-blown blast walls. Tangles of abandoned razor wire litter the ground. Bombed-out houses lie in ruins. And there's the ubiquitous presence of armed young men adjusting from a life of fighting to one of living in peace.

The new jobs — policing streets, guarding buildings, collecting garbage — are the mundane, necessary tasks of governing. It's less dramatic than waging war, but there is palpable relief to be free of the violence.

Without fear of airstrikes or bullets, children shriek in delight as they splash about in an irrigation canal, leaping into the murky water from a bridge.

"Life is much more joyful now. Before there used to be lots of brutality and aggression," 28-year-old Abdul Halim Hilal says, sheltering from the blazing sun under a mulberry tree before posing for a portrait. "Innocent people would die. Villages were bombed. We couldn't bear it."

He joined the Taliban as a teenager, believing it was his moral duty to fight foreign troops. He lost as many as 20 friends to the war, and more were wounded. He's stung by the memory of his dead brothers-in-arms when he sees their fatherless children, but he's comforted by an unshakeable belief that their sacrifice was worth it.

"The ones that were killed were fighting to sacrifice themselves for the country," he says. "It's because of the blood they gave that we're now here, giving interviews freely, and the Muslims here are living in peace."

A villager walks by, glancing at the gaggle of curious children and adults gathered around the box camera. "It's so strange," he mutters. "We used to fight against these foreigners, and now they're here taking pictures."

Mujeeburahman Faqer, a 26-year-old Taliban fighter, now mans an uneventful security checkpoint in Kabul. Like many others, he's struggling to adapt to a peacetime mentality, because all he's ever known was war. "I had prepared my head for sacrifice," he says, "and I am still ready."

A FOUNDERING ECONOMY — AND A STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE

Security has improved since the end of the insurgency against U.S. forces. But with peace came an economy in freefall.

When the Taliban seized power again in 2021, international donors withdrew funding, froze Afghan assets abroad, isolated its financial sector and imposed sanctions.

That squeeze, combined with the near-total ban on women working, has crippled the economy. Per capita income shrank by an estimated 30 percent last year compared to 2020, according to the United Nations Development Program.

Nearly half of Afghanistan's 40 million people now face acute food insecurity, the U.N.'s World Food Program says. Malnutrition is above emergency thresholds in 25 of 34 provinces.

Struggling to survive is something Kasnia already knows at age 4. In a brick factory outside Kabul, she scoops out a chunk of mud with her tiny hands, kneading it until it is pliable enough for a brick mold. After countless repetitions, her movements are automatic. She works six days a week from sunrise until sunset, with brief breaks for breakfast and lunch, toiling next to her siblings and her father — one family among many in a sprawling factory where children become laborers at age 3.

"Everyone wishes that their children study and become teachers, doctors, engineers, and benefit the future of the country," says her father, Wahidullah, 35, who goes by one name, as do his children.

Even with the entire family working, there's often not enough money for food and they live hand to mouth on credit from shopkeepers. Of his three sons and three daughters, all except the youngest one are brickmakers.

"When I was young, my dream was to have a comfortable life, to have a nice office, to have a nice car, to go to parks, to travel around my country and abroad, to go to Europe," he recalls. Instead, "I make bricks." There is no bitterness in his voice, just acceptance of an inevitable fate.

Many Afghans have resorted to selling their belongings — everything from furniture to clothing and shoes — to survive.

When the Taliban banned movies, Nabi Attai had nothing to fall back on. In his 70s, the actor appeared in a dozen television series and 76 films, including the Golden Globe-winning 2003 movie "Osama." Now he is destitute.

His home, tucked in a warren of steep alleys, is now nearly devoid of furniture, which he sold in the bazaar to feed his extended family. Sold, too, is his beloved TV.

After 42 years of acting, Attai has no work. Neither do his two sons, who were also in the movie and music business. Attai is glad the streets are now safe, but he has 13 family members to feed and no way to feed them.

He asked local authorities for any job, even collecting garbage. There was nothing. So he started selling his belongings. "I have no hope right now," he says. Even begging is now punished by imprisonment under the Taliban.

Over the past year, he has become frail. His cheeks are sunken, his frame thinner. There's a sadness in his eyes that rarely leaves, even when he recounts his glory days.

"We made good movies before," he says. "May God have mercy that music and cinema will be allowed again, and the people will rebuild the country hand in hand, and the government will come closer to the people and embrace each other as friends and brothers."

PINPRICKS OF GLITZ

The shimmering lights of wedding halls cut through the gloom as night encroaches on Kabul, pinpricks of glitz in the darkness.

Despite the economic slump, wedding halls are doing a brisk trade, buoyed in part by wealthier Afghan emigres returning home for traditional marriage ceremonies now that the security situation has improved.

Weddings are a big part of Afghan culture, and families sometimes bankrupt themselves to ensure a lavish party for hundreds or even thousands of guests.

Construction of the Imperial Continental wedding hall began four years ago but was disrupted by the COVID pandemic and the Taliban takeover. The opulent venue finally opened its doors last year.

Manager Mohammad Wesal Quaoni, 30, cuts a dapper figure in a sharp suit as he sweeps through the glamorous, cavernous halls, juggling four weddings in one night. The former Kabul University lecturer in economics and politics is trying to ensure the business thrives amid the country's economic woes. It's not easy.

"Business is weak," he says, and onerous government rules and regulations don't help. The Taliban are raising taxes, but he says there isn't enough commerce to support a healthy tax base.

The ban on music and dancing doesn't help. Gone are the live musicians and even the DJs who would bring in extra revenue, Quaoni says. Weddings are segregated by gender but, for once, there's sometimes a bit more fun for the women.

Occasionally women and girls enjoy taped music in the ladies' section. "If they want, they do it," restrictions or not, he said. "Women will be women."

Five hundred miles west of the capital, on the outskirts of the city of Herat, businessman Abdul Khaleq Khodadadi, 39, has an entirely different set of challenges.

Rayan Saffron Company, where he is vice president, exports the prized spice to customers, mainly in Europe and the U.S. But the Taliban takeover and ensuing sanctions left many foreign clients reluctant to do business with an Afghan company – even though it's one of the few still allowed to employ women, whose hands are deemed more suitable than men's to extracting and handling the delicate crocus flowers.

The isolation of the banking sector has also left many Afghan companies with no way to trade except through a third country, usually Pakistan, which significantly increases costs. Then there's drought that has decimated crops, including saffron.

His company had aimed to increase their production this year. Instead, their production fell to half of what it was three years ago, he says.

Khodadadi says he is determined to persevere. For him, successful businesses are the best way to heal Afghanistan's wounds.

In the chaotic early days of the Taliban takeover, Khodadadi felt intense pressure to join the tens of thousands of people who fled, he says. He had a visa and family and friends urged him to leave, but he refused to go.

"It was very, very hard," he recalls. "But ... if I leave, if all the talented people, educated people leave, who will make this country? When will this country solve the problems?"

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This story was supported by funding from the Pulitzer Center. The AP is solely responsible for all content.

Photos: A new view of life under the Taliban emerges

Stacker looked at the No. 1 rock songs of the 1970s using the Billboard Hot 100 and MusicBrainz, an open music encyclopedia via the University of Waterloo.

NEW YORK — U.S. Sen. Bob Menendez of New Jersey and his wife were indicted Friday on charges that they took bribes of cash, gold bars and a luxury car for a range of corrupt acts, including having the Democrat use his influence over foreign affairs to benefit the authoritarian government of Egypt.

A search of the couple's home turned up $100,000 in gold bars and $480,000 in hidden cash, said prosecutors, who announced the charges against the 69-year-old Democrat nearly six years after an earlier criminal case against him ended with a deadlocked jury.

The latest indictment is unrelated to the earlier charges that alleged Menendez accepted lavish gifts to pressure government officials on behalf of a Florida doctor.

Messages were left for Menendez’s Senate spokesperson and his political consultant. David Schertler, a lawyer for Menendez’s wife, said she "denies any criminal conduct and will vigorously contest these charges in court.”

The Senate Historical Office says Menendez appears to be the first sitting senator in U.S. history to have been indicted on two unrelated criminal allegations. Menendez faces reelection next year in a bid to extend his three-decade career in Washington as Democrats hold a narrow majority in the Senate.

The indictment alleges that Menendez provided sensitive U.S. government information and took other steps to secretly help Egypt, including ghost-writing a letter on behalf of Egypt pushing other senators to lift a hold on $300 million in aid to the country.

In April 2020, shortly after meeting with an Egyptian official, authorities allege, Menendez also lobbied then-Secretary of State Mike Pompeo to increase American engagement in stalled negotiations involving Egypt, Ethiopia and Sudan to build a dam over the Nile River, a key foreign policy issue for Egypt.

Prosecutors allege Menendez and his wife accepted hundreds of thousands of dollars in bribes from three business associates, Wael Hana, Jose Uribe and Fred Daibes. He also used his influence to pressure the president to nominate a U.S. attorney for New Jersey who would protect Daibes, a longtime friend and prominent New Jersey developer who faced criminal prosecution, they said.

After Menendez called a government official about Daibes' case, according to the indictment, his wife was given a Mercedes-Benz convertible by Uribe and Hana, both friends of the senator and his wife. The indictment says that after the purchase was complete, Nadine Menendez texted her husband to say: "Congratulations mon amour de la vie, we are the proud owners of a 2019 Mercedes," with a heart emoji.

Now that he is indicted, Menendez will have to step down as chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Rules for the Senate Democratic caucus say that any member who is charged with a felony must step aside from a leadership position.

Menendez had to step down from his position as the top Democrat on the panel when he was indicted in 2015. He resumed the post in 2018 when he was cleared of the charges.

The first time Menendez was indicted, he had been accused of using his political influence to help a Florida eye doctor who had lavished him with gifts and campaign contributions.

The new charges follow a yearslong investigation that examined, among other things, the dealings of a New Jersey businessman — a friend of Menendez's wife — who secured sole authorization from the Egyptian government to certify that meat imported into that country meets Islamic dietary requirements. Investigators also asked questions about the Menendez family's interactions with a New Jersey developer.

Menendez's political career had looked as though it might be over in 2015, when a federal grand jury in New Jersey indicted him on multiple charges over favors he did for a friend, Dr. Salomon Melgen.

Menendez was accused of pressuring government officials to resolve a Medicare billing dispute in Melgen's favor, securing visas for the doctor's girlfriends and helping protect a contract the doctor had to provide port-screening equipment to the Dominican Republic.

Menendez has always maintained his innocence. His lawyers said campaign contributions and gifts from Melgen — which included trips on his private jet to a resort in the Dominican Republic and a vacation in Paris — were tokens of their longtime friendship, not bribes.

Prosecutors dropped the case after a jury deadlocked in November 2017 on charges including bribery, fraud and conspiracy, and a judge dismissed some counts.

The Senate Ethics Committee later rebuked Menendez, finding that he had improperly accepted gifts, failed to disclose them and then used his influence to advance Melgen's personal interests.

But months later, New Jersey voters returned Menendez to the Senate. He defeated a well-financed challenger in a midterm election that broke a Republican lock on power in Washington.

Melgen was convicted of health care fraud in 2017, but President Donald Trump commuted his prison sentence.

The son of Cuban immigrants, Menendez has held public office continuously since 1986, when he was elected mayor of Union City, New Jersey. He was a state legislator and spent 14 years in the U.S. House of Representatives. In 2006, Gov. Jon Corzine appointed Menendez to the Senate seat he vacated when he became governor.

Menendez first publicly disclosed that he was the subject of a new federal investigation last October. Prosecutors declined at the time to comment, but some details of their investigation emerged in news reports and court records.

In 2019, federal agents seized electronic devices and records from the offices of IS EG Halal, a New Jersey company that had been named by the Egyptian government as the sole company to certify that imported meat met religious requirements.

The designation surprised U.S. agriculture officials. Previously, several other companies had been doing that certification, but they were dismissed by Egyptian agriculture officials in favor of IS EG Halal, which had no previous experience in the field.

The switch happened the same year that Menendez became engaged to Nadine Arslanian, an acquaintance of the new halal certification company's owner, Hana, of Edgewater, New Jersey.

Records show Arslanian, 56, was battling foreclosure on her Bergen County property in 2018. When she and Menendez got engaged it began a period of financial turnaround for Arslanian, a former marketer for a medical company.

Within weeks of their engagement, she incorporated a business, Strategic International Business Consultants LLC, according to state records. Her foreclosure case was dismissed soon after. The following year, her assets included gold bars valued between $100,000 to $250,000, according to a Senate disclosure form amended by Menendez in March of 2022.

Between April and June of 2022, the couple cashed out at least part of their precious metal holdings, forms show, selling between $200,000 and $400,000 worth of gold bars, while keeping at least $250,000 worth of them.

An attorney for Arslanian, David Schertler, did not respond to a request for comment about his client's international business work or how she acquired the gold bars.

After news reports last May that federal prosecutors were examining whether Menendez or his wife had received unreported gifts from the business, Hana's spokesperson denied that any U.S. official had assisted the company.

U.S. investigators also issued at least one subpoena last spring seeking correspondence from Menendez, his wife, or an Edgewater developer, Daibes, whose company owns the building where IS EG Halal has offices. The subpoena, which was sent to state Sen. Nicholas Sacco, referenced a state bill that would have limited development in certain areas along the Hudson River, including where Daibes owns property.

The 10 Senate seats most likely to flip in 2024

1. West Virginia

2. Montana

3. Ohio

4. Arizona

5. Nevada

6. Wisconsin

7. Pennsylvania

8. Michigan

9. Texas

10. Florida

Analysis: Senate map remains offensive opportunity for Republicans

In a presidential contest cycle, Senate races don’t get the same kind of attention when there’s still a year to go until Election Day. But the start of the second fundraising quarter earlier this month brought a host of new candidate names – some declared and some still biding their time – that will help shape the race for control of the chamber in 2024 and the ultimate power dynamics for whoever is president in 2025.

With more candidates launching their campaigns this month, the prospect of competitive primaries has become more real – especially on the Republican side. That’s especially true in the top three seats most likely to flip, which represent the GOP’s best chances to pick up the one or two seats they’d need to control the chamber, depending on who wins the presidency. (Rankings are based on CNN’s reporting, fundraising figures and historical data about how states and candidates have performed.)

West Virginia’s GOP primary – mainly between the governor and a congressman – was already brewing, but it’s looking even more contentious with outside groups like the Club for Growth’s political arm touting the millions they’re planning to spend. This race will be a marquee battle between the national GOP’s more establishment forces and the conservative outside group. And, as in other races like Montana and Nevada, this one will test the National Republican Senatorial Committee’s new strategy of picking sides in primaries.

It’s impossible to talk about Republican primaries without discussing former President Donald Trump. Ever since 2016, loyalty to him has been a key litmus test for the GOP – often much more than actual conservatism. But adherence to his election conspiracy theories has sometimes hurt Republicans in general elections, with the 2022 midterms being a prime example.

The chairman of the NRSC, Montana Sen. Steve Daines, has endorsed Trump. And for now, at least, the former president appears to be playing along. CNN reported that he’s informed two House Freedom Caucus members whom he’s previously backed – in West Virginia and Montana – that they won’t have his support for the Senate. (In Montana, Rep. Matt Rosendale hasn’t yet announced his campaign but is expected to challenge the NRSC’s preferred candidate.)

This month’s ranking isn’t all about primary drama, however. In Pennsylvania, Republicans breathed a major sigh of relief in May when election denier Doug Mastriano, fresh off his 15-point gubernatorial loss, decided not to run. The expectation that Dave McCormick will get into the race with a clearer lane – and the GOP’s lack of candidates right now in other states – bumps the Keystone State up one spot on this list as slightly more likely to flip.

Overall, the Senate map remains an offensive opportunity for Republicans. Democrats hold seven of the 10 seats most likely to flip next year, an independent holds one and Republicans hold two – a breakdown that’s unlikely to change much, although the order of the ranking will likely evolve in the months to come.