A technology executive who helped lead the New York Times’ popular games division was allegedly shot and killed in broad daylight by his elderly parents-in-law, police say.

Shouyong Zhang and Shili Chen, both 77, are accused of fatally shooting their 40-year-old son-in-law, Jonathan McKinsey, in the parking lot of Dublin Sports Grounds in Dublin, California, on Saturday.

McKinsey, who had served as the New York Times’ head of engineering for games player experience since 2023, sustained multiple gunshot wounds and died at the scene, according to police.

Witnesses told investigators that two masked attackers approached McKinsey and took turns firing repeatedly before calmly leaving the parking lot, the New York Post reported.

Images showed the suspects being detained beside a roadway after witnesses reportedly alerted a nearby police sergeant and helped direct officers to them.

Authorities have not disclosed a possible motive for the daytime shooting. Zhang and Chen were booked into Alameda County’s Santa Rita Jail, where they are being held without bail.

The couple face multiple charges, including murder, felony conspiracy, child endangerment and unlawfully or dangerously firing a gun.

Court records cited by the San Francisco Chronicle show that McKinsey was charged last year with two misdemeanor counts of child abuse by prosecutors in Alameda County.

According to a probable cause declaration, a woman told police that her husband, identified as McKinsey, had struck her six-year-old son in the face with an open hand.

She also described an alleged domestic violence incident in 2018, claiming that McKinsey bruised her after grabbing her left arm.

Deputies responding to that incident reportedly found a two-year-old child unattended in an upstairs bedroom after McKinsey had left the home to go shopping.

McKinsey pleaded not guilty in both cases and was released on bail on the condition that he complete 12 parenting classes.

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Investigators have not said whether they believe those earlier allegations were connected to Saturday’s fatal shooting. The attack occurred at about 3 p.m., after the tech executive was confronted in the parking lot of a Dublin Sports Grounds store.

Witness Assad Razawi told ABC7 that he heard several shots from across the parking lot before seeing McKinsey collapse.

“His head and chest were bloody,” Razawi said.

McKinsey’s daughter, Mal, said they later saw “a man and a woman walking together and casually walk away from the shooting.”

A police sergeant who was driving nearby saw McKinsey laying on the ground, police said, and officers were scrambled to the parking lot. 

Razawi told the San Francisco Chronicle that other witnesses saw two shooters calmly walking away, and they were found in a black sedan at a nearby intersection. 

Authorities have not said what led up to the shooting, but have confirmed that the suspects are McKinsey’s in-laws. 

A neighbor of the McKinsey family told the Chronicle that Jonathan had recently moved out of the home he shared with his wife and three children. 

Another neighbor said a detective had knocked on her door asking about the family on Saturday night, hours after McKinsey was shot dead.  

A spokesperson for the New York Times confirmed to the New York Post that McKinsey had been employed as head of games at the company since 2023. 

Before helming the Times’ games platform, McKinsey was engineering manager at Splunk, and he had previously studied at UC Berkeley. 

Zhang and Chen are being held in jail without bail, and their arraignment has been scheduled for Wednesday. 

SpaceX’s Starship reached orbit for the first time before exploding moments after splashing down in the ocean.

The uncrewed spacecraft lifted off at approximately 8:46 a.m. ET from SpaceX’s Starbase facility on the Gulf of Mexico near Brownsville. It was initially scheduled to spend about 10 hours circling Earth.

The mission was shortened, however, after one of Starship’s engines unexpectedly shut down during its ascent.

Video showed the 40-story vehicle rotating into position for what appeared to be a controlled splashdown at 11:58 a.m. ET. Seconds after striking the water, the spacecraft erupted into a huge fireball.

SpaceX spokesperson Dan Huot said during the livestream: “Starship has landed.”

“As you saw, not quite a soft splashdown as we had on the last one, but it’s Starship in the water nonetheless.”

Although SpaceX did not officially confirm that Starship had exploded, cameras onshore recorded the vehicle breaking apart and detonating near its midsection.

Some observers described the flight as a “complete failure.” Yet the mission’s primary objective was to send the massive spacecraft into orbit—and on Monday, Starship achieved that milestone.

Two minutes and 34 seconds after liftoff, Starship successfully performed a hot-stage maneuver to separate from the Super Heavy Booster 21. The booster then completed its landing burn above its intended splashdown zone in the Gulf.

Soon afterward, SpaceX announced that one of the spacecraft’s three Raptor engines had shut down, putting the planned orbital attempt in jeopardy.

Roughly 20 minutes later, mission control authorized the attempt to continue, prompting cheers at Starbase. About five minutes after that, Starship reached its target orbit.

NASA Administrator Jared Isaacman congratulated SpaceX on the achievement in a post on X, writing: “Gorgeous launch, getting Ship to orbit and managing every step in a safe, responsible, and especially inspirational way.”

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“NASA, along with the rest of the interested public, is excited to help where we can and for Starship missions to become routine!”

Approximately eight and a half minutes after the burn, a dispenser inside Starship’s nose began deploying 26 third-generation Starlink satellites. Each satellite is designed to offer 10 times the capacity of its predecessor.

By 9:54 a.m., Starship had released its Starlink payload. Around an hour later, SpaceX announced that the spacecraft would return to Earth ahead of schedule.

“Flight teams will deorbit Starship safely to our pre-cleared area of the Pacific Ocean after 3 hours in orbit,” the Elon Musk-led company said on X.

Starship appeared to splash down as planned, but seconds later, a massive fireball erupted, sending pieces of the spacecraft flying. 

After 13 test flights that never reached orbit, SpaceX was attempting to send Starship around Earth for the first time and bring it safely back down.

Success would have strengthened confidence that a modified version can be ready for NASA’s planned Artemis moon landing in 2028. 

It was not immediately clear whether the engine trouble and fiery splashdown would affect SpaceX’s preparations for the planned 2028 moon landing. 

SpaceX ultimately wants Starship to flip upright and touch down in Texas, bringing crews home and allowing the spacecraft to fly again. 

For now, its test flights end at sea, with no plans to recover the vehicle. 

John Swinney’s clumsy plan to restructure Scotland’s NHS and local councils could become a lucrative windfall for a new generation of highly paid public-sector bosses.

The First Minister’s supposedly bold programme of public-service reform is increasingly looking less like a carefully prepared strategy and more like an idea hastily drafted on the back of a cigarette packet.

The Scottish Mail on Sunday reported this week that health boards were not told about Mr Swinney’s proposal to cut their number from 14 to just two.

The absence of any meaningful consultation is remarkable — or perhaps it would be in any normal political system not run by the SNP.

Instead, the episode reflects the familiar approach of a secretive administration that announces major changes with little warning and limited engagement with the people expected to deliver them.

Confusion deepened after a disastrous weekend interview with Deputy First Minister Jenny Gilruth, who appeared unable to explain the SNP’s plans for streamlining local government.

The proposals would replace existing councils with between six and ten “regional authorities”, alongside as many as 120 to 160 “community authorities” — bodies that sound remarkably similar to councils themselves.

There is a growing risk that the SNP’s attempt to create a smaller, more efficient state will deliver neither.

Instead, the restructuring could turn into a generous payday for NHS and council executives who are already among the best-paid figures in the public sector.

Compulsory redundancies are reportedly excluded from consideration. Given the influence of the trade unions, that decision is hardly unexpected.

Ministers appear reluctant to confront organisations capable of making the Government’s political life extremely difficult. That leaves one straightforward question.

If senior officials are not being shown the door, where will they go?

One possibility is that many will simply move on to the payrolls of the new strategic bodies, authorities and quangos Mr Swinney plans to establish.

Under that model, reform becomes a bureaucratic merry-go-round: officials leave one well-funded structure only to reappear in another, with taxpayers left to cover the cost.

The central issue is whether these changes will improve public services — and whether the customer, or more accurately the taxpayer, will see any tangible benefit.

Past experience offers little reassurance.

Mergers, reorganisations and high-profile announcements frequently create additional layers of management while leaving frontline services largely untouched.

Scotland could therefore end up with the same bureaucracy, the same spending and the same failures it has today — simply repackaged under a different organisational structure.

The transformation of the exams agency SQA into Qualifications Scotland is a useful reminder of how easily supposed reform can amount to little more than a change of name.

The shop front changed, but largely speaking the management did not – yet this cosmetic makeover, superficial as it was, cost a great deal of money.

The example of Police Scotland is also instructive.

It was established in 2013 ostensibly as a way of saving cash, although we were also told it would create a superior service by ending back-office duplication and sharing resources.

Yet the single force has become a basket case, overwhelmed by controversy on an almost routine basis and apparently in the grip of perpetual managerial turmoil.

Ministers responsible for creating Police Scotland are either long gone or sit quietly on the sidelines – pretending none of it is happening.

It is not uncommon, however, to hear SNP ministers speak about this new model of policing as though it were a template for the large-scale re-think of the NHS and local government that Mr Swinney now proposes.

Given the force’s turbulent history, that is hardly an encouraging sign.

It also remains entirely possible that this latest initiative is smoke and mirrors – a charade designed to create the appearance of action.

After all, if the First Minister and his officials have not even spoken to the bosses of health boards about their plans, does that not suggest Mr Swinney’s blueprint is somewhat insubstantial, to put it diplomatically?

A great many livelihoods may potentially be on the line further down the food chain from the executive tiers – and many hard-working NHS staff will be justifiably concerned about their future.

There was, however, an alternative path – if only the SNP had possessed the courage to take it.

Ministers might have weeded out the countless diversity managers and other non-jobs which have sprung up like knotweed.

That would have involved the sort of bold and difficult decisions civil servants like to describe as ‘challenging’.

There is no real evidence Mr Swinney would have had the courage to take such a hardline approach.

Yet, ironically, he is now contemplating a far more fundamental reorganisation – one that is bound to create even greater confrontation with the unions.

In the past, Mr Swinney and his predecessors have repeatedly caved in to eye-watering pay demands from unions.

It therefore seems highly unlikely that this time around he will suddenly discover an appetite for taking on the union barons.

He and his Left-wing colleagues will not want difficult stand-offs with unions if they can possibly avoid them.

Meanwhile, SNP backbenchers are likely to become restive as this process unfolds.

Many will fear a jobs bloodbath in their own constituencies as workers fall foul of the SNP’s axe.

Yet the First Minister is determined to have his cake and eat it.

One minute he rails against ‘Tory austerity’ – the next he boasts about his determination to eliminate waste.

This is despite the fact that his own administration has presided over years of excessive spending and the proliferation of largely pointless quangos.

We are now being asked to believe that the very people who oversaw the development of a bloated state are somehow best placed to cut it down to size.

Much of public life in Scotland is populated by individuals whose chief qualification is often loyalty to the prevailing political culture rather than a record of exceptional achievement.

For years, large parts of Scotland’s quangocracy have operated under the vice-like grip of an SNP administration that has embedded its worldview at every available opportunity.

The risk for the SNP is that it may now weaken a network of influence that has helped sustain its dominance.

If layers of bureaucracy are genuinely stripped away, some of the political assumptions and institutional allegiances that have accumulated during almost two decades of Nationalist rule may disappear with them.

Voters are entitled to ask why it took so long – and whether Mr Swinney truly has the stomach for the battle ahead.

In the meantime, hard-pressed taxpayers will continue to bankroll the growth of a sprawling failed state which the SNP may ultimately prove incapable of bringing under control.

Liechtenstein does not have an official bovine band, although its sizeable cow population could probably form one. All day, cattle wander the pastures with polished bells swinging from their necks, creating a soft, irregular soundtrack that would be worth hearing on a concert stage.

In Malbun, the country’s highest alpine resort, those cowbells provide a constant musical backdrop. The peaceful mountain village draws walkers during the warmer months and skiers in winter, with the bells chiming as visitors unload their cars, enjoy a local Brauhaus wheat beer in the sunshine or push their legs up steep trails at elevations approaching 2,000 metres.

Wedged between Austria and Switzerland, and only about 20 miles from Germany, Liechtenstein is remarkably compact. The principality measures roughly 15 miles from end to end and just four miles across, making it smaller than only Vatican City, Monaco and San Marino among Europe’s countries.

That diminutive scale makes Liechtenstein a tempting stop for travellers collecting countries, many of whom simply cross the border, take a photograph and move on. But those who stay can walk across the country’s narrowest stretch in a few hours, potentially completing the unusual travel feat of visiting three countries in a single day.

A quick border photo, however, barely scratches the surface of this welcoming miniature nation. A full week would suit visitors hoping to explore in depth, but our three-day family stop in late July proved an ideal introduction — even if we left wishing we had booked a little longer.

As one of Europe’s least visited countries, Liechtenstein offers a refreshing escape from crowded attractions and interchangeable tourism brands. There are no international hotel chains here and not even a Starbucks, although Vaduz’s only McDonald’s appears to be thriving.

Instead, the landscape is dominated by 92 named mountains, vineyards and more than 400 kilometres of walking routes — the densest hiking network in Europe. The 75-kilometre Liechtenstein Trail links many of the country’s highlights, while the Rhine forms a natural boundary along the western side.

The scenery is restorative wherever you go. Wildflower meadows dotted with edelweiss, the dramatic peaks of the Rätikon range and traditional wooden homes combine to create an almost storybook alpine setting.

The country’s royal family appears to have embraced that fairytale atmosphere. Prince Hans-Adam II, head of the House of Liechtenstein, lives in Vaduz Castle, a 12th-century fortified residence whose towers overlook the capital, the Rhine Valley and the Swiss Alps.

Vaduz combines a reigning prince with a cathedral and an eye-catching parliament building constructed from around a million cream-coloured clinker bricks. Yet the capital has fewer than 6,000 residents, making it comparable in size to a substantial British village.

Liechtenstein has no railway station, but its yellow single-decker buses handle the mountain roads and connect 411 stops. We arrived by car; travellers flying into Zurich can take a train to Sargans, just across the Swiss border, then continue to Vaduz by bus in approximately 33 minutes.

We arrived in Malbun with an ambitious three-day hiking itinerary, but the resort’s calm atmosphere quickly became part of the appeal. Even at the height of summer, this little-known alpine retreat feels wonderfully uncrowded.

It would be an easy place for a famous person hoping to vanish from public view: send a decoy to St Tropez and retreat here instead. Malbun has only a handful of hotels, a modest selection of restaurants and a small, picturesque church with a poignant history.

Built from natural stone in the early 1950s, the Catholic Peace Chapel commemorates Liechtenstein’s survival without direct involvement in the Second World War. Like neighbouring Switzerland, the principality maintained its neutrality throughout the conflict.

Liechtenstein was established as a principality in 1719 by Emperor Charles VI of the Austrian Habsburg dynasty. Today, it relies heavily on Switzerland for practical administration, sharing its currency and customs arrangements. German is the official language, alongside three locally spoken dialects.

There’s plenty of fun facts to be hewn out of this country too; the principality is the world’s leading manufacturer of high-end false teeth and its 40,000-strong population belts out the national anthem, ‘Oben am jungen Rhein’, to the same tune as ‘God Save the King’.

Creating your own identity when you’re a doubly land-locked microstate can’t be easy but the Liechtensteiners we meet are laid-back, with an easy, offbeat humour. At our hotel, we’re gifted a branded tick remover, because why shouldn’t fending off Lime Disease be a marketing opportunity?

We encounter a surprisingly rich undercurrent of creativity too, from the farm shop vending machines selling local honey, artisan pasta and fresh milk to a meadow ‘escape room’ and the ‘swing trail’, a two-hour mountain walk punctuated with 10 playground swings that come with sensational views.

Persuading a 15-year-old and a 12-year-old to lace up boots and swap mobiles for Mother Nature sparked some predictable moaning that eventually floated away on the breeze; because there is no AI photo that can match seeing the Alps with your own eyes.

Family hikes invite a carousel of different energies. On a three-hour looping wander from Malbun to the high, prominent ridge of Sareis, right at the top of the mountain, there are swathes of silent concentration interspersed with segments of animated chat about school, movies and music, as we distract ourselves from the grinding rise in terrain.

The well-trodden paths are fringed with swaying grasses, Alpine roses and trumpet-like gentian flowers. We stop to pat adorable donkeys and watch as a local brings a soaring golden eagle back to his leather glove. Ultimately though, it is the culinary reward at the summit that spurs this quartet of fair-weather walkers on.

My favourite meal this year might end up being the ham and cheese sandwich, served on freshly cut bread with one, fat splodge of mustard, that we devour at the Sareis café. 

Liechtenstein’s favourite lunch, by the way, is Käsknöpfle, small but hearty dumplings cloaked in cheese and caramelised onions – human fuel for negotiating these landscapes.

To cool off after lunch, we take the chairlift back down and then yellow bus it to an impressive outdoor swimming pool – with snaking water chutes, diving boards and whirlpools – in Mühleholz for an afternoon under a summer sun that’s never too hot. At £5.50 for adults and £2.75 for under 16s, it’s a cheap way to kick back.

Miles of walking and carb-filled lunches is a soporific combination when you add in slow, winding bus rides – and cat-napping on public transport seems to be par for the course amongst locals and tourists.

Our mini adventure proves a masterclass in both why small is beautiful and how finding the forgotten can be great fun. Give me low-key Liechtenstein’s four-legged Alpine percussionists and their cowbells over the madding crowd elsewhere any day.