S1.E4 ∙ Harbor Drive, San Diego

From the 1915 Armenian genocide to contemporary North America, via modern Turkey. "The Genocide in Me" is a moving personal journey in which Canadian-Armenian filmmaker Artinian confronts the reality of her life in the Canadian melting pot of cultures. She asks herself the universal question "Where do I belong?".

Notwithstanding the international agreements that put an end to the bloody warfare lasted more than ten years, the DR Congo seems not to have found peace yet. The atrocities done, the greediness of foreign powers keep creating the premises for violence and weapons to rule the North Kivu region. In this environment of social turmoil the weakest are doomed to succumb first: this is the case of deaf people who live in the town of Butembo. Marginalized and refused from society, banished by families deaf people live like ghosts among the humans, sentenced to a stunning silence. The yell of a lost population raises through the exceptional statement of the voiceless. A population that never give up fighting for dignity and don't want to submit to unhappiness.

In the summer of 2008, a small group of friends ran 4,000 miles across America. They called themselves Run for the Fallen, and their mission was to run one mile for every service member killed in Operation Iraqi Freedom. They refused any political affiliation and simply wanted to honor those who had fought and died under the American flag. Jon Bellona, 26, of Clinton, NY, founded the Run in memory of his best friend and college roommate, 1st Lt. Michael J. Cleary, of Dallas, PA, who was killed in 2005, at age 24. The team also included Mike's fiancée, sister, and other friends. "To Them That's Gone" tells the story of this moving memorial and the people it touched from coast to coast.

The story of the Mosquito fighter bomber used so successfully by the Allied forces in World War 2 and the De Havilland that made them.

My Jewish family lost its home to the Nazis. I decide to return the reparations to the occupiers of our home in Germany, and I go to Germany to get our home back. In Germany, I suddenly realize I'm a hypocrite: here I am, complaining about the property taken from my ancestors, when in America I'm living on and profiting from the land taken from the Native Americans. And then I have an idea: If Germany owes me for sixty five years of back rent, and I owe the Native Americans for sixty five years of back rent, why not let the Native Americans collect directly from Germany and cut out the middleman? Four Native Americans go to Germany to execute the 'assigned claim.'