Given a paragraph, generate a claim that is supported by the given paragraph. 1) The claim must contain information from within the paragraph. 2) A sentence within the paragraph can be used as a claim. 3) The claim should not have contradictions within the paragraph. 4) The claim should be at most one sentence long.

Input: Consider Input: "A bipartisan push in Albany would classify offenses against first responders and law enforcement officers as hate crimes. The Community Heroes Protection Act would also toughen the sentences for those convicted. State Sen. Martin J. Golden, a Republican from Brooklyn and co-sponsor of the bill, said the number of assaults on police officers in New York state should convince his colleagues to support the effort. ""The numbers show this law is definitely needed,"" Golden said. ""Just last year, alone, 710 police officers - this is just police officers - were assaulted in this state."" Is Golden right? Were that many police officers assaulted last year? Data from the FBI The Federal Bureau of Investigation has reported the number of law enforcement officers killed and assaulted in the United States since 1972. The FBI defines a law enforcement officer as a local, state, and federal public authority who ordinarily carries a badge and a firearm. The report does not include attacks on correctional officers or emergency responders, though they are included in the proposed legislation. The bureau reported 710 assaults on New York state law enforcement officers in 2015, the latest data available. That’s the lowest number since 2007, when 656 officers were assaulted. The FBI's New York state number, however, is not a statewide figure. It only includes assaults on law enforcement officers outside New York City. The agency said it does not have data for reported assaults on law enforcement officers in New York City. Data from the NYPD The New York City Police Department reports its own data on police assaults, but it defines officers more broadly. The Police Department tracks assaults on police officers, peace officers, prosecutors, nurses, sanitation workers, firefighters, paramedics, city marshals, school crossing guards, traffic agents and emergency responders. The department said it does not report solely the number of assaults on law enforcement officers. Last year the department reported 1,632  assaults on people within the department's definition. That’s down from 2015, when 1,738 assaults were reported. Our ruling Golden said,  ""Just last year alone, 710 police officers … were assaulted in this state."" Golden relied on FBI data that does not include assaults on officers from New York City. Golden undercounted, but his point is not lost: The number of reported assaults on law enforcement officers is significant. His statement needs clarification and additional information.

Output: "Just last year, alone, 710 police officers"" were assaulted in New York state."


Input: Consider Input: Exploring online was easy, with hashtags like #scars, #hurt and #brokeninside. Nothing made sense back then, but Theo absorbed what he saw on websites like a religion. All he could focus on was how the exterior he was born with — that of a girl — didn’t look or feel right. That was six years ago, when he had another name and a different gender. Back then, Theo felt that his body was rebelling in disturbing ways. He developed breasts and got his period. He felt like a boy, but every month, the cramps reminded him of reality. He became a child at war with his body. He wasn’t aware of words like gender dysphoria or transgender; those would come later. So would the national debates, the furor over bathrooms, and discussions of how to help children who didn’t feel right in their own skin. “When you’re 10 years old, you really shouldn’t be worried about who you are,” Theo would say years later, in a moment of reflection. “You shouldn’t be having that existential question when you’re in fifth grade. You should be worried about homework and the fifth-grade dance coming up.” He knew he was different from other kids in class. One day in the girls’ bathroom at his South Florida elementary school, Theo made the first of many gouges in his arm, using a paperclip. Pricks of blood bloomed on his fair skin. A teacher and a school nurse whisked Theo to safety. Theo’s mother, Lori Ramos, got the call from the principal. Her child was in the hospital. Ramos burst into the ER: Was it a fall, a fight, a shooting? “What’s going on here?” Ramos demanded of doctors and school staff. The answers were confusing: Her child had asked a teacher to call her by a different name, use different pronouns. Her child didn’t feel normal and wanted to be a boy. Ramos was bewildered — she saw no prior clues her child felt this way. And she was no stranger to transgender, gay, lesbian and bisexual issues — she worked in a clinic for HIV patients. When she’d given birth in 2001, in a hot tub on the family’s back porch in a Florida suburb an hour south of glitzy Miami Beach, she was thrilled. “I had my older son, and I had my girl, and my family was complete,” Ramos said. Her baby. Her “sunshine girl.” One who was no longer filled with light. Theo was involuntarily committed for 72 hours so doctors could determine whether he was a danger to himself or others. Soon, therapists and doctors had a diagnosis: gender dysphoria, a conflict between a person’s physical or assigned gender and the gender with which they identify. But a diagnosis didn’t solve Theo’s problems or make him feel better. When he tried to look like a boy, everyone at school noticed. His mother was accepting; his father wasn’t. He threatened to disown Theo. Theo again turned to the internet. He started cutting around his thighs and hips — his “problem areas.” When Theo saw thin kids online, he looked at his own baby fat and, once again, didn’t fit in. He wouldn’t eat for days, or he’d force himself to throw up. Cutting and vomiting weren’t painful, not exactly. They were more of a stress release, a way to match physical pain to what he felt inside: “I just know that it isn’t right, that the body I have isn’t supposed to be this way.” Small aggressions at school led to outright bullying. Other kids asked what was in Theo’s pants, if he had a penis, if he could show them. Theo started missing school. A therapist diagnosed depression and anxiety disorder. If only Theo could become a boy through hormone therapy — that, he thought, would solve his problems. “It’s just like every time I’m misgendered it feels like a wrench clamping around my heart and it slowly grows tighter and tighter,” he explained. “Being addressed as female or identifying as female never felt right to me; it always gave me this acute sense of discomfort and pain.” Hormone therapy for transgender children is a recent, controversial practice. It hasn’t been studied much. The concept that children can be transgender has been discussed in the open only recently; previously, it was something to be hidden, squashed and ignored. About 150,000 teenagers in the U.S. identify as transgender, according to a 2017 study by the Williams Institute at UCLA’s School of Law. About 1.4 million U.S. adults identify as transgender. Medical professionals have come up with protocols for children and teens. They recommend that some kids with gender dysphoria essentially pause puberty with hormone blockers until they’re certain they want to live as a different gender. But the child must be prepubescent. It was too late when Theo and his parents learned about the option. Theo could take testosterone, but rigorous counseling sessions were recommended first. This annoyed Theo: Why not become a boy right away? Experts say impatience is common: Transgender children want to transition, and waiting is frustrating. Even under regular circumstances, teens and patience aren’t usually mentioned in the same sentence. Doctors say going slow when treating trans teens is essential for physical and emotional well-being, and note that if a teen’s feelings last until age 16, the desires are probably permanent. Theo insisted testosterone could bring peace with his body: “If I could just start T therapy, I would know I was on the way to being who I’m supposed to be.” His parents, though, worried about the effects on their growing child. Theo wanted testosterone, but his anxiety sometimes made him question his desires. It became a regular topic of conversation between mother and son. “I’m nervous,” Theo said in the spring of 2016. He was 14. “What if I do change my mind?” “Well, what if you do?” asked his mother. “I can always stop,” Theo said. Ramos shook her head. “The changes are permanent.” ____ EDITOR’S NOTE: The Associated Press followed Theo Ramos for more than a year as he grappled with his gender dysphoria. This is the first installment of a three-part story. PART ONE: As a child grappling with gender dysphoria, Theo Ramos found himself at war with his body. PART TWO, coming Tuesday: Living with a transitioning transgender child “is anything but a straight line,” as his mom says. PART THREE, coming Wednesday: Visibility of transgender issues is at a high, but all the talk in the world doesn’t make life any easier as a gender-fluid or transitioning kid. ____ Follow Tamara Lush on Twitter at https://twitter.com/tamaralush .

Output: Trans teen’s war with his body started when he was just 10.


Input: Consider Input: Biogen had announced in March that it would terminate two large clinical trials of aducanumab because they were likely to fail. Within weeks, a group of company researchers set out to understand what went wrong. As they studied data from a larger pool of patients who received the drug, they began to question that conclusion. In the months that followed, Biogen kept its own trial investigators and committee overseeing the trial in the dark about the possibility that some patients had benefited from high doses of the therapy, researchers told Reuters. The company said it brought in outside Alzheimer’s experts and statisticians to help it parse the new findings, and sought feedback from U.S. regulators on whether it could be considered for approval. The result, made public on Tuesday, was an astounding reversal. Biogen will seek U.S. approval for the therapy early next year, once again raising hopes for patients suffering from the brain-wasting disease. Biogen shares gained 27% on investor hopes for a multibillion-dollar blockbuster. The risks for Biogen remain high. Wall Street analysts cast doubt on whether Biogen’s analysis would pass muster with the U.S. Food and Drug Administration without an additional years-long trial to confirm the findings. Several Alzheimer’s researchers questioned why one trial appeared to succeed, while another with the same design failed. Many experts say they are reserving judgment until Biogen presents more detailed data in December. Company executives are reluctant to characterize their interactions with the FDA, but said they worked closely with the agency until they were confident in the findings. Biogen was only willing to move forward with seeking approval for aducanumab after meeting twice with FDA. The final decision was made immediately after the second of those meetings, which took place on Monday, Biogen officials said. For the FDA “to say it’s reasonable to file an application after two extensive discussions with them, formal meetings as well as a number of informal discussions, I think it’s significant,” Biogen research chief Al Sandrock said in an interview. Biogen’s earlier decision to terminate the trials was viewed as the final nail in the coffin for the so-called “amyloid hypothesis” - the theory that removing a protein associated with Alzheimer’s could stave off this fatal form of dementia. Many similar drugs had previously failed. Globally, 131 million people are expected to be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s by 2050, up from 50 million today. Any successful treatment could be worth $10 billion or more in annual sales, industry analysts say. The March announcement also raised concerns about a second therapy, BAN2401, that works in a similar way. Biogen is partnering with Japan’s Eisai on both drugs. Ivan Cheung, Eisai’s chief executive, said in an interview that he expects aducanumab’s revival will energize enrollment in a late-stage study of BAN2401, with results expected in 2022. Patients taking the highest dose of BAN2401 showed some encouraging results in a midstage trial last year. “That’s why in the Phase III trial, we are only studying the highest dose,” Cheung said. The two aducanumab trials - Engage and Emerge - started a month apart in 2015. Each had about 1,640 patients. As they progressed, the company made changes in the trial that expanded the number of patients who received a higher dose. As part of a planned “futility analysis,” outside monitors reviewed half of the data as of December 2018 to determine whether the drug had a reasonable chance of success. “So many of us felt that this might be the drug that would cross the finish line,” said Dr. Sharon Cohen, director of the Toronto Memory program, who led one of the studies. In March, she received the answer: the therapy looked like a dud. However, patients continued to receive treatment in the interim. Cohen believes the fact that some patients got a higher dose for longer helped swing results in the Emerge study, which ultimately showed a benefit. A month after announcing the failure, Biogen began analyzing results from both trials, including additional data from patients who later completed treatment. By the time Biogen had its first FDA meeting in mid-June, the company knew that one of the studies had succeeded, and understood that dose was important, said Samantha Budd Haeberlein, who runs Biogen’s Alzheimer’s program. “We did a great deal of analysis in close contact with the FDA to really understand what occurred in these trials,” Haeberlein said. “It took several months to work through that.”  During that entire stretch, Cohen said she and fellow investigators were waiting to hear why the drug had failed. They expected a presentation in July during the Alzheimer’s Association annual meeting, but none came. “I was completely unaware of what had been discovered until last Sunday,” said Dr. Anton Porsteinsson, a principal investigator for the trials from the University of Rochester School of Medicine and Dentistry. Porsteinsson said Biogen asked him to sign a non-disclosure agreement before sharing the new analysis. Cohen said she first reviewed the new data on Monday in what she called a “top secret” meeting. She said the company wanted a few investigators to hear the findings ahead of Tuesday’s announcement, but had concerns about insider trading. Many still question why only one trial succeeded. “The signal from the positive trial was kind of convincing,” said Mayo Clinic Alzheimer’s expert Dr. Ronald Petersen, who has been a paid adviser for Biogen. It showed a 23% reduction in a key measure of cognitive decline. “But the other study, which was meant to be identical, didn’t show it,” he said. “That’s the challenge there.”


Output: Austin is number one in Texas in startups, venture capital and patents.