In this task, you are given news articles and you need to generate a highlight, i.e., a short summary, with a maximum length of 10 lines.

Example Input: (CNN) -- When Lukas Hartmann, 29, signed up for 23andMe's at-home genetic testing service, there were no surprises in his results. The Berliner learned he would probably die from "a mix of heart attack and prostate cancer," he wrote on a friend's blog, but "nothing special there." Then a few months ago, he received an update from the company. Hartmann's genetic code showed two mutations that are linked to limb-girdle muscular dystrophy, he says the site told him. "Some people with limb-girdle muscular dystrophy lose the ability to walk and suffer from serious disability," his results page read. This can't be true, he thought. It must be an error. Genetic testing can be a powerful tool. It can offer information about your family history, tell you how your body might respond to different drugs and identify your risk factors for disease. It can also be misleading. The Food and Drug Administration on Monday ordered 23andMe to stop sales of its $99 home genetic testing kits, saying the Google-backed company has not proven the validity of its product. The FDA warned that customers who received inaccurate results could suffer from undue mental anguish or undergo unnecessary medical procedures. The government agency has asked 23andMe to revise its marketing strategy to comply with federal regulations. The action triggered outrage among some of 23andMe's supporters. "So GMOs, aspartame, artificial flavors & colors, pink slime ... no problem!" a poster named Laura Ann wrote on the company's Facebook page. "But in no way should we be allowed the right to know our own genetic material as a means for making better decisions about our health." In a statement, 23andMe said it has received the FDA's letter and will be working to address the agency's concerns. There are more than 3 billion letters in our genetic code. Though it's been 10 years since the Human Genome Project was completed, scientists still don't understand what every gene does, and what a mutation might mean for someone's health. It's one of the issues opponents to home genetic testing kits raise most often. If DNA experts don't understand 100% what a gene mutation means, how can we expect consumers to? 5 cool things DNA testing can do . Scientists have identified more than 2,000 single gene disorders, says Rebecca Nagy, president of the National Society of Genetic Counselors. These are disorders that can be diagnosed based on the mutation of a single gene in the body; some examples include Huntington's disease or cystic fibrosis. But conditions such as Type 2 diabetes or Alzheimer's are more complex. Hundreds of genes may contribute to the development of these diseases, Nagy says, and a person's risk is also influenced by his or her environment. Testing for markers of risk scattered across someone's genome is "really only testing for the tip of the iceberg." "That's where it gets a little scary, because if a person has a normal test result on 23andMe, they leave thinking they don't have a risk," she says. "It's not that the science behind (this kind of genetic testing) isn't good. It's that the science behind them isn't complete." The upside of these at-home genetic testing kits -- and 23andMe isn't the only company that sells them -- is that they've generated a lot of buzz about genetics, Nagy says. She says she believes most early adopters of the tests are information-savvy and understand the results aren't set in stone. "I don't think that anyone thinks that this kit replaces formal testing by a doctor," Heather Armstrong posted on 23andMe's Facebook page. "I seriously doubt that a doctor would agree to perform, say, a double mastectomy, based on these results." Joseph Stolarski posted, "If you find something interesting, you then take it to a medical professional for further evaluation. No one is or should rely on it for medical 'diagnosis.' It's just a tool, like personally checking your heart rate with a watch or checking your weight on a scale." But Nagy says she worries about what will happen when the tests become more mainstream. Giving this kind of information to someone unfamiliar with genetic testing's limitations could prove dangerous. Nagy recommends anyone who wants to do genetic testing first talk to a genetic counselor. Counselors have specialized graduate degrees and extensive knowledge of the human genome. They're also trained in explaining test results to laymen. "Our message is to be a smart consumer," Nagy says. "Know what you're doing so that when you get the results back you can really use them to your best benefit." Hartmann did some intense investigating, saying he looked at the raw data 23andMe provided him. He eventually found he did indeed have two mutations, he says, but they weren't on the same gene. He says he submitted his "bug report" to the company and it apologized. In general, Hartmann thinks it's a good thing for every person to have affordable access to his or her genetic data. But he's browsed the community forums on 23andMe.com and has seen how seriously some people take their results -- without fully understanding them. Hartmann says he now believes he will not get limb-girdle muscular dystrophy, although he says there is a risk he could pass the genetic mutations onto his kids. "I can live with that," he wrote. "For quite some time, I hope." Parents push for standardized screening of Jewish genetic diseases . CNN's Dorrine Mendoza and CNNMoney's James O'Toole and Aaron Smith contributed to this report.
Example Output: FDA has ordered 23andMe to stop sales of its $99 home genetic testing kits .
23andMe supporters took to social media to protest the FDA's decision .
Genetic testing can be a powerful tool if used correctly, experts say .

Example Input: NEWARK, New Jersey (CNN) -- An FBI analyst and former vice presidential aide was sentenced Wednesday to 10 years in prison for espionage after he admitted supplying classified documents to Philippine nationals in an effort to overthrow that country's government, federal prosecutors said. Leandro Aragoncillo, 48, a former U.S. Marine and Philippine native who worked as a military aide to Vice Presidents Al Gore and Dick Cheney before joining the FBI as a civilian employee, pleaded guilty to four charges of espionage in May 2006. The plea deal spared Aragoncillo from facing the death penalty, prosecutors said. In a sentencing hearing Wednesday morning, U.S. District Judge William H. Walls sentenced Aragoncillo to 10 years in prison for his involvement in a plot to overthrow Philippine President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo. In addition, he fined Aragoncillo $40,000. Aragoncillo could have been sentenced to up to 20 years for participation in a conspiracy to transmit national defense information, prosecutors said. U.S. Attorney Christopher J. Christie, in a news release issued Wednesday, accused Aragoncillo of "betraying his Marine uniform, his adopted country and the trust bestowed on him as an FBI analyst." Michael Ray Aquino, a co-conspirator, was sentenced by Walls on Tuesday to six years in prison. Aquino, 41, is a former Philippine national police officer who pleaded guilty in July 2006 to taking classified documents, obtained from Aragoncillo, and passing them on to Philippine officials plotting to overthrow Arroyo. Aragoncillo, a naturalized U.S. citizen, was arrested along with Aquino on September 10, 2005. Mark Berman, an attorney for Aquino, said that his client admits receiving documents from Aragoncillo, but maintains that he did not know the information was classified. Prosecutors say that Filipino recipients of the classified documents included former President Joseph Estrada, who was ousted six years ago; Sen. Panfilo Lacson, an opposition politician; and former House Speaker Arnulfo Fuentebella. "I never intended to cause harm or injury to the United States," Aragoncillo told the judge. Aquino's attorney said his client was "relieved" that the court rejected the government's recommended sentence of 10 years in favor of a lighter penalty. Attorneys for Aragoncillo refused to comment. E-mail to a friend .
Example Output: Man passed classified documents to foes of Philippines president .
Leandro Aragoncillo is ex-Marine, former aide to two U.S. vice presidents .
Conspiracy to transmit national defense information could have brought 20 years .
Second man sentenced Tuesday to six years in same conspiracy .

Example Input: (CNN) -- It's an unreal scene, like one from a horror film. Here's how Tulsa World editor Ziva Branstetter described Oklahoma's botched execution on Tuesday of convicted killer Clayton Lockett: . • 6:28 p.m. Fifty milligrams of midazolam have been injected into each of Lockett's arms to start the process, an attempt to sedate him before the second and third drugs are administered to stop the breathing and the heart. Lockett has spent the past several minutes blinking and occasionally pursing his lips. • ...6:37 p.m. The inmate's body starts writhing and bucking and it looks like he's trying to get up. Both arms are strapped down and several straps secure his body to the gurney. He utters another unintelligible statement. Defense Attorney Dean Sanderford is quietly crying in the observation area. • 6:38 p.m. Lockett is grimacing, grunting and lifting his head and shoulders entirely up from the gurney. He begins rolling his head from side to side. He again mumbles something we can't understand, except for the word "man." He lifts his head and shoulders off the gurney several times, as if he's trying to sit up. He appears to be in pain. State officials reportedly were unsure how much of the second and third drugs that were supposed to kill Lockett were actually injected into his body. While the third was being administered, Lockett's vein "exploded," Oklahoma Department of Corrections Director Robert Patton told reporters. He called the execution off. Then the inmate, Patton told the media, died of an apparent heart attack at 7:06 p.m. Perhaps some supporters of the death penalty find comfort in the fact that death by lethal injection is supposed to be painless -- more sterile than a firing squad, more clinical than the electric chair. For those people, perhaps, Oklahoma's botched execution will be a wake-up call -- a realization that all executions, regardless of method, are cruel and not especially unusual in parts of the United States. But in Oklahoma -- where both the firing squad and the chair are still statutory alternatives to the needle, if other methods were to be deemed unconstitutional by the courts -- method and morality don't seem to matter much. This is the state -- the state where I grew up, by the way, and where I once worked as a newspaper reporter -- that has the highest per capita rate of executions in the country. Nationally, support for the death penalty has declined from a high of 80% in the 1990s to only 60% now, according to Gallup. States such as Connecticut, Maryland and New Mexico recently have abolished this abhorrent practice. It's unclear if public opinion in Oklahoma mirrors the national trend, statistically, but anecdotal evidence suggests the state supports, if not celebrates, state-sponsored death. "Give them a bonus!" one commenter wrote on The Oklahoman's website, apparently referring to the executioner or state officials. "I hope that man was in more pain than anyone ever imagined possible," a woman from Oklahoma wrote on Facebook, echoing a sentiment I saw repeated. Not everyone reacted this way, to be sure. But an outsider could be forgiven for seeing politicians in the state who support these unethical policies as death-hungry and vengeful. History would support that view as well. It was Oklahoma, after all, in 1977, that was the first state to authorize death by lethal injection. That decision was made, in part, because Oklahoma was "facing the expensive prospect of fixing the state's broken electric chair," and lethal injections were cheaper, according to Human Rights Watch. It was Oklahoma, in 1988, that lost an argument before the U.S. Supreme Court that it should be able to execute a man who was convicted of murder at age 15. And it was Oklahoma, just this year, that executed a 38-year-old man, Michael Wilson, whose last words, just a moment before his death, were, "I feel my whole body burning." Yet, the state proceeded with Lockett's execution this week. And it did so, according to The Guardian, using "dosages never before tried in American executions." Oklahoma Gov. Mary Fallin was forced to show some sense when she ordered a stay of a second execution -- of convicted child rapist and murderer Charles Warner -- that was scheduled to occur after Lockett's on Tuesday. That a state was going to execute two men in one night drew international curiosity and condemnation. It rattled some feathers in Oklahoma, as there were protesters at the Capitol. But the governor and many residents were unmoved. No one would dispute that Lockett's crime was unthinkably heinous: He was convicted of shooting 19-year-old Stephanie Neiman before watching his accomplice bury her alive. But that doesn't excuse the state from ordering his death, especially in this way. Both Lockett and Warner's sentences had been contested in court, with attorneys for the inmates arguing that the state cannot withhold the exact source of the drugs it planned to use for the executions. A political circus ensued, and the court, in the view of Andrew Cohen, a fellow at the Brennan Center for Justice, "caved in to the political pressure." Oklahoma Supreme Court Justice Steven Taylor wrote, in agreement with the court, that Lockett and Warner had no right to know the source of the chemicals. "...(I)f they were being hanged, they would have no right to know whether it be cotton or nylon rope; or if they were being executed by firing squad, they would have no right to know whether it be by Winchester or Remington ammunition," he wrote, according to news reports. States have been scrambling to come up with drugs they can use to kill people since some drug makers stopped selling them for such purposes. Fallin has called for an investigation into the botched execution. As part of that, she should make the source of Oklahoma's drugs known. But Oklahoma seems to be a place hell-bent on secrecy. Near the end of the Tulsa World editor's journal of events, Ziva Branstetter writes that "blinds are lowered" and reporters were not allowed to see what happened in the final moments of Lockett's life. "Reporters exchange shocked glances," she wrote at 6:39 p.m. "Nothing like this has happened at an execution any of us has witnessed since 1990, when the state resumed executions using lethal injection." Reporters were escorted to a white van outside the state penitentiary in McAlester, Oklahoma, which is commonly known as "Big Mac." They were told to leave their state-issued pens, Branstetter wrote. One could find hope in that moment -- could think that the state realizes that if witnesses saw what happened after the curtain fell, they would be shocked into action. That seems like a plausible explanation, but I still have my doubts. The death penalty is on its way out in America. But it's got a cold grip on Oklahoma.
Example Output:
Oklahoma botches first of two executions scheduled for Tuesday .
John Sutter: The horrific scene won't change attitudes in the state .
Sutter writes that some locals more or less celebrated the botched execution .
The death penalty still has a "cold grip on Oklahoma," he writes .