Ceasefire Breakthrough: U.S., Iran Agree to 2-Week Pause
WASHINGTON, April 7 (ET) — President Donald Trump said on Monday evening he had agreed to a two-week ceasefire with Iran, less than two hours before a self-imposed 8:00 p.m. deadline for what he had previously described as the potential destruction of an entire “civilization.”
U.S. President Donald Trump. Photo: AP
Trump said the agreement would be finalized on the condition that Iran reopens the strategically critical Strait of Hormuz.
“This will be a two-way ceasefire,” he wrote on Truth Social.
The U.S. president added that Washington had received a 10-point proposal from Tehran, which he described as a viable basis for negotiations. Most of the longstanding points of contention between the two sides, he said, had been resolved, though a two-week period would be needed to finalize and implement the deal.
China and Russia, meanwhile, vetoed a United Nations Security Council resolution that called for coordinated international efforts to safeguard commercial shipping through the Strait of Hormuz, arguing the measure was biased against Iran. Russia’s U.N. ambassador, Vasily Nebenzya, said Moscow and Beijing are preparing an alternative resolution addressing the broader situation in the Middle East, including maritime security.
Israel destroys advanced Iranian air defense system
The Israeli Air Force has destroyed one of Iran’s most advanced air defense systems in a precision strike, eliminating an S-300PMU2 battery, according to video released by the Israel Defense Forces on April 7.
The S-300PMU2 — designated by NATO as the SA-20B “Gargoyle” — is a long-range surface-to-air missile system capable of engaging targets at distances of up to 200 km (124 miles) and altitudes exceeding 27 km (16.7 miles). Equipped with 48N6E2 interceptor missiles and advanced phased-array radars, including the 64N6E2 “Big Bird” and 30N6E2 “Tomb Stone,” the system can track dozens of targets and engage multiple threats simultaneously.
Within Iran’s layered air defense network, the system plays a key role in protecting strategic assets such as nuclear facilities, air bases and command centers.
Iran is believed to operate about 16 S-300PMU2 systems, delivered by Russia beginning in 2016 under a $1 billion contract. Although integrated with domestically developed platforms such as the Bavar-373, the loss of a single system is likely to weaken Tehran’s long-range air defense coverage.
U.S. Navy pushes shipbuilding, missile expansion
The U.S. Navy is advancing a sweeping modernization plan, proposing a $65.8 billion budget for fiscal year 2027 to fund the construction of 34 warships while sharply increasing missile procurement.
At the center of the plan are Columbia-class ballistic missile submarines, which underpin the United States’ nuclear deterrent, along with two Virginia-class attack submarines known for their stealth and multi-mission capabilities.
On the surface, Arleigh Burke-class destroyers will remain the backbone of air and missile defense, while next-generation FF(X) frigates are expected to enhance flexible escort operations.
The plan also emphasizes logistics and sustained combat capability, including John Lewis-class replenishment oilers, America-class amphibious assault ships and strategic sealift vessels.
Missile procurement is set to rise significantly. The Pentagon has requested funding for 785 Tomahawk cruise missiles, valued at roughly $3 billion, and 540 SM-6 air defense missiles worth $4.33 billion — both marking substantial increases from the previous year.
Tomahawk missiles provide long-range land-attack capability, allowing strikes deep inside adversary territory without close engagement. The SM-6, by contrast, serves as a multi-role defensive interceptor capable of targeting aircraft, cruise missiles, unmanned aerial vehicles and certain ballistic threats, helping ensure the survivability of naval strike groups.
THE CORRUPT COP PULLED OVER THE WRONG WOMAN — THEN HE POINTED A GUN AT AN FBI AGENT 🔥
A corrupt Texas cop stole from drivers for years… until he pulled over the wrong woman.
The barrel of Officer Harlon Quill’s gun flashed under the brutal Texas sun, pointed straight at Delaney Voss’s chest.
Heat lifted off the blacktop in waves. Gravel snapped under her shoes. Behind her, the rental SUV ticked softly as the engine cooled, and the dry smell of dust, hot rubber, and old roadside weeds sat heavy in the air.
Still, Delaney did not scream. She did not shake. She did not look away.
Quill smiled like he had already won.
Like a woman alone on a forgotten stretch of East Texas highway, with out-of-state plates and a paper coffee cup in the console, was just another easy stop.
He had no idea he had just pulled over the wrong person.
Three days earlier, at 7:18 p.m., Delaney’s younger brother Ronan called her from a gas station bathroom outside Austin and tried to sound calm. He failed before he got through her name.
He was supposed to be on his way to college orientation. He had saved for months, skipped dinners, picked up extra warehouse shifts, and kept his tuition money in a worn bank envelope because the school office had told him the deadline was final.
Then a local officer stopped him.
No warning. No clear reason. Just flashing lights, a hand near a holster, and a voice telling a nineteen-year-old kid that cash in a car looked suspicious.
By 7:46 p.m., Ronan’s tuition money was gone.
No police report. No seizure receipt. No case number. No property inventory. The only thing Ronan had managed to keep was a rushed photo of the citation before the officer snatched it back.
One name was visible at the bottom.
Harlon Quill.
Delaney did not drive to Cedar Ridge for revenge. She drove there for answers, and answers have a way of making guilty people behave exactly like themselves.
Officially, she was on administrative leave. Unofficially, she was behind the wheel of a rental SUV on a two-lane Texas road, dressed like any other tired woman passing through: jeans, plain gray T-shirt, sunglasses, hair pulled back, phone mounted on the dash, and a hidden camera tucked low enough to catch the driver’s window.
Corruption rarely announces itself. It smiles. It calls you sweetheart. It asks one harmless question while its hand is already near your wallet.
Delaney needed to know if Quill was one rotten badge, or if everyone around him had learned to look away.
So she drove under the speed limit.
Calm. Clean. Perfect.
At 2:13 p.m., she passed a barbecue sign half-bleached by the sun. A small American flag snapped from a pole outside a feed store down the road. She saw the patrol car tucked behind the sign before it moved, but she kept her face neutral and her hands steady.
The cruiser slid out behind her.
At first it stayed back. Then it crept closer until the grille filled her rearview mirror.
Delaney tapped the brake once, just enough to mark distance.
That was all he needed.
Red and blue lights exploded behind her.
“Here we go,” she murmured, easing onto the gravel shoulder.
She shut off the engine, rolled down both front windows, and placed her hands on top of the steering wheel where he could see them. Basic procedure. Clear movements. No drama.
But men like Quill were never looking for safety.
They were looking for obedience.
He stepped out of the cruiser like the road belonged to him. Big shoulders. Heavy boots. One hand loose near his weapon. The other carrying nothing but attitude.
When he reached her window, he did not greet her.
“You know how fast you were going, darling?”
“Below the speed limit, officer.”
His laugh was dry enough to match the weeds. “My radar says different. Reckless driving in a construction zone.”
“There hasn’t been a construction sign for miles.”
The smile came off his face.
“You calling me a liar, girl?”
“I’m stating a fact,” Delaney said. “And I’d appreciate you not calling me that.”
That was enough.
His voice hardened. His shoulders moved closer to the window. He ordered her out of the vehicle.
Delaney knew the law. She knew he did not have probable cause. She also knew people like Quill did not fear the law in the moment. They counted on everyone else fearing them more.
She opened the door slowly.
The heat hit her full in the chest. Quill did not step back. He crowded her against the SUV, forced her hands onto the hood, and dropped the oldest lie in the dirty-cop playbook.
“I smell marijuana.”
Delaney felt a cold line run down her spine.
Not because she believed him.
Because she knew what came next.
His hands moved over her with slow, ugly confidence. Then his eyes landed on the bag in the passenger seat.
“What’s in there?”
“My identification,” Delaney said. “And my badge.”
Quill barked out a laugh. “Your badge? What are you, mall security?”
Delaney turned her head just enough for him to hear every word.
“I’m a special agent with the FBI. And you are making a very serious mistake.”
For one second, the whole roadside seemed to hold its breath.
The weeds stopped moving. The cruiser engine hummed. A pickup slowed in the far lane, then kept going. Even Quill stared like the sentence had reached him in a language he did not want to understand.
Then he laughed again.
“Sure you are.”
Delaney reached one careful hand toward the open passenger door.
“I’m going to retrieve my credentials.”
“Don’t move!” he roared.
In a blink, the Glock was out.
The gun stayed pointed at her chest.
Inside the SUV, the hidden camera kept recording. The weapon. The distance. The anger in his face. The way his finger rested too close to the trigger.
But what Quill still did not understand was that this was not the moment Delaney broke.
It was the moment his world began to crack.
Because while he stood there smiling with a gun in his hand, Delaney looked past his shoulder at the reflection in her side mirror…
And saw the nose of a second vehicle rolling slowly onto the shoulder behind his cruiser.
No siren.
No hurry.
And for the first time since the stop began, Officer Harlon Quill’s smile twitched.
**My Sister-in-Law Drugged My Son as a “Prank” — Then Police Found the Prescription With a Name That Terrified Me**
MY SISTER-IN-LAW DRUGGED MY SON
My sister-in-law suddenly offered to take my son, Caleb, to Liberty Oak Park.
It was the last thing I expected from Amber.
Two hours later, my eight-year-old niece, Lily, called me sobbing.
“Auntie Sarah… please come! Mommy said it was just a prank, but Caleb won’t wake up!”
My blood ran cold.
I drove to the park like a woman possessed.
When I reached the edge of the woods, I saw my son lying motionless on the grass.
His face was pale.
His breathing was barely there.
And Amber?
She was leaning against a tree, calmly scrolling through her phone.
I dropped to my knees beside Caleb.
“What did you do to him?”
Amber sighed.
“Stop overreacting. He was being impossible, so I gave him something to calm him down. He’ll wake up soon.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“You drugged my son.”
“It was just a little sedative,” she said coldly. “Maybe if you actually knew how to control him, I wouldn’t have had to.”
My hands shook as I called 911.
Within minutes, paramedics were fighting to keep Caleb alive.
At the hospital, every second felt like a countdown.
Then Detective Miller entered the room.
His expression was grim.
“Ms. Carter, your son was not given an ordinary sedative.”
I froze.
“We found a dangerous combination of powerful prescription drugs and alcohol in his system. His heart could have stopped at any moment.”
My stomach twisted.
Then Miller dropped the second bomb.
“Amber claims she found the medication in your bag. She says you were responsible, and she only tried to cover it up.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Amber had already prepared a story.
But Miller shook his head.
“We don't believe her.”
He placed a small evidence bag on the table.
Inside was an empty prescription bottle.
“Lily told us what she saw. She watched her mother crush pills into Caleb’s drink.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“And she showed us where Amber threw this bottle.”
Miller turned it over.
The label was still visible.
“It’s a prescription for high-potency sedatives.”
He paused.
“The prescription is registered to someone else.”
I stared at the name.
My entire body went cold.
Because the person listed on that bottle…
was someone I knew.
Someone who had absolutely no reason to be anywhere near my son.
And suddenly, Amber’s “prank” looked nothing like a prank.
