Bryan Kohberger's, 'I like to drive at night' defense may seem weak to most. But he's not the only one who has offered an alibi that makes little to no sense. Here's a look at some of the other dumbest alibis in history. 

The "Twinkie Defense" (Dan White, 1978)
Description: The 1978 murders of San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk shook the nation. The man responsible, Dan White, was a former San Francisco Board of Supervisors member. At his trial, the defense attorney presented a unique argument suggesting that White's consumption of junk food, particularly Twinkies, was symptomatic of his severe depression. This was not to argue that the Twinkies caused his actions, but rather to highlight his compromised mental state. The media latched onto this defense aspect and dubbed it the "Twinkie defense," a name stuck in popular culture. While the defense itself might seem trivial or laughable, its implications were anything but. Using this argument of diminished capacity, White was convicted of voluntary manslaughter instead of first-degree murder. The public's reaction was strong, leading to the White Night riots in San Francisco. The case and its outcome had a lasting impact on legal discussions about responsibility, mental health, and how they're addressed in the courtroom.

The "Dog Ate My Homework" Defense (Andrew Zieleniewski, 1993)
Description: Andrew Zieleniewski's defense during his murder trial in the UK was reminiscent of an oft-used childhood excuse: that his dog had consumed his homework, and he was at home during the crime's occurrence, trying to retrieve it. This alibi might seem almost humorous in its simplicity, but its utilization in a serious criminal trial underscores the lengths to which individuals might go to establish innocence. Despite the peculiar nature of the excuse, it didn't hold up in court. The jury dismissed his claim, and Zieleniewski was convicted. The case serves as a testament to the intricate and sometimes bizarre narratives defendants might weave to escape justice.

The "Television Hypnosis" Alibi (Simon MacMillan, 1990s)
Description: Simon MacMillan, accused of theft, presented one of the most unusual alibis: he claimed he was under the spell of a TV hypnosis show during his crime. While not a murder case, it remains noteworthy for its audacity. MacMillan's defense hinged on the idea that television could induce a state of suggestibility so profound that one could commit crimes without being aware. In a world where concerns about media's influence have always been rife, MacMillan's defense pushed the boundaries of these fears. However, courts, grounded in scientific reasoning, didn't give credence to this narrative, further reinforcing the necessity for evidence-based defenses.

The "Sleepwalking Killer" (Kenneth Parks, 1987)
Description: Kenneth Parks' case is remarkable in legal annals. Parks had a well-documented history of sleep disorders. One fateful night, he drove 20 kilometers to his in-laws' home, assaulted both, and killed his mother-in-law. He then drove to a police station, and confessed, but with a twist: he claimed he had done all of this while sleepwalking. Medical experts supported his claims, pointing to a rare form of sleep disorder. The jury faced a moral and legal dilemma: can someone be held responsible for actions committed in a state they have no control over or recall of? Ultimately, Parks was acquitted, leading to global discussions about sleep disorders, legal responsibility, and where the two intersect.

The "Werewolf Defense" (Bill Ramsey, 1980s)
Description: Bill Ramsey's claims were perhaps more fitting for a horror movie script than a courtroom. During the 1980s in the UK, after a series of violent incidents, Ramsey proclaimed that he occasionally transformed into a werewolf, losing control during these episodes. Sporadic and unpredictable violent outbursts backed his claims, but no concrete evidence supported the supernatural aspect of