Part 2
By Robert James Fischer
CONTINUATION OF “I WAS TORTURED
IN THE PASADENA JAILHOUSE"
I THINK just for the record it is appropriate to physically describe the officer
who choked me since I don’t know his name. He’s, I’d say, in his late 30’s, or
early 40’s, with kind of two-toned hair that stands up kind of prickly or goes
straight back. One part of the hair in front seems brown and the other blond or
gray. He’s thin and lanky and fairly tall. He’s hyper-aggressive, like a little
dog who barks and snaps a lot and bares his teeth. He is also quite
vicious. I believe this should be more
than sufficient to pin down the name and identity of this officer. I describe
him thus to someone who is familiar with the Pasadena police and he
immediately knew who I was talking about although he didn’t recall the name
offhand. I’m sure I could easily recognize him if I saw him again. For example
I could easily pick him out of a police lineup.
After this I was taken upstairs to
the jail part of the police department. One of the officers who arrested me
said to the man behind the desk, “We’ve got him on the identity.” Or “We’ve got
him on the identity thing.”
When I told the man at the desk there who
wanted me to answer questions, that I had just been choked by the neck
downstairs, he sarcastically sniggered, “Aw, they wouldn’t do that, uh, uh,
they’re good men. I know them. They’d never do that,” and he sneered. When I
refuse to answer anymore questions and after they had taken all my belongings,
I was led to a cell and they forced me to strip completely naked and leave all
my clothes outside the cell. When I stripped down to my jockey mesh shorts, I
said, “This too?” referring to my underpants, and the jailer nodded and said,
“Yes.” I took my underpants off and gave it to him also.
I
was refused the right to make a phone call. After the desk officer locked the
door of the cell he snickered, “The phone’s on the wall.” Of course, there was
no phone there.
The
cell had no sheets, no bed, no mattress, no covers, absolutely nothing except a
few thin pieces of toilet paper. I was forced to lie stark naked on a painted
metal bunk with little round holes in it everywhere. After a very short period
of time, of course, this became unbearable and excruciatingly uncomfortable and
painful. To add to my discomfort the light was turned on in the cell. I was
kept locked up in that cell until sometime Wednesday morning, May 27, when I
was transferred to another cell that made my first cell seem like a picnic.
This
cell was a kind of isolation cell. Way in the far corner overlooking the
street, it had 2 windows on different wall of the room, both windows being
open. The cell door was completely solid with no opening except a one-way peep
hole for the jailers to look in. The room was completely drafty and cold and
dank.
Of
course, mu suffering in this room was completely horrendous and unbearable,
being still stripped stark naked as I was. My body and flesh are still in pain
and agony from this gruesome and cruel experience as I write these lines about
8 or 10 days later. I was left in there to freeze to death or die from
exposure.
I
shouted to numerous passersby in the street to call a certain telephone number
and to tell them that I was being tortured to death in the Pasadena police
station, which was absolutely the truth.
In
addition to all the pain and torment I felt from the cold, the draftiness, and
lack of clothes, at about noontime the room became extremely noisy from the
street traffic. By any standards, the decibel level was such as could easily
cause permanent hearing damage. Also, at intervals, trains would rumble by at
extremely loud noise levels. And of course being imprisoned in the room above city
traffic, the smog level was even worse than normal.
I
was left for many hours on end isolated in this room without anyone coming to
the door or into the room to talk to me.
I
had once read a book on brainwashing and it told how in North Korea, captured
American G. I.’s during the Korean war were placed in rooms and forced to sleep
on freezing blocks of ice. But I simply could not believe that here in the
“civilized” U. S., a somewhat modified and slower (though equally deadly)
treatment was being applied by American citizens to another American citizen.
And all this without a trial, without any accusations being made against me,
etc. My crime was simply I have nothing more to say to these gangster police
officers of Pasadena!!! Incredible, but true.
After
I have been tortured in this room for some time, some jailers came in and told
me that if I’d talk to them and give them more information, they’d give me my
clothes back, and that I was being punished for my “attitude”. They said they
couldn’t take me down to the court to see the judge until the arrest form had
been all filled out. They said the judge wouldn’t even see me until then. I
reminded them that I’d been choked by the neck and that I had nothing more to
say to them, and that I’d do my talking to the judge.
They
told me that they might have to send me to a mental institution for
observation. They asked me what year it was, what month it was, etc. I easily
answered these stupid questions.
I
told them again and again I wanted to make a phone call. I was refused. I was
told, “You’ve not going to make a phone call or see the judge until we get the
information we want.” Numerous times I was bargained with, that they’d give me
my clothes back if I’d give them the information they wanted.
I
was denied food for some 24 hours or so straight. I told them they were
starving and freezing me to death. They said, “Die! We hope you do. You can die
for all I care, etc.
In
order to save my life and to try to get out of the cold and draft, I crawled
inside the linoleum covered plastic mattress. A jailer looked in through the
peep hole and asked me what I was doing inside the mattress. I told him I was
trying to get out of the cold. He said I had destroyed prison property by doing
so. So I said, “What do you want me to do—quietly freeze to death to make you
happy?” He said, “Yes, I hope you d freeze to death. I don’t care.” I was told.
“That’s another charge against you—destroying prison property.” He told me to
get out of the “Give me my clothes and I will.” He left.
Incidentally,
I didn’t destroy the mattress or any other prison property. The mattress had
already been opened by somebody else before me. Much later, just before my
release from that hell hole-the Pasadena jailhouse- I was transferred to
another cell (for many prisoners) and saw several more of these particular
mattresses they have up there. They were all in good condition and sewed up. I
looked them over and estimate that it would be extremely difficult—virtually
impossible—to open them up without a knife or sharp cutting object of some
kind. I suppose they are made that way deliberately. And, of course, I had no
knife or any other object of any kind in my isolation cell.
The
charge that I destroyed the mattress is totally laughable because the mattress
was my only chance to even partially try to get out of the cold, dankness and
draftiness. It would have made absolutely no sense whatever for me to destroy
it.
However,
I would add that in order to save my life from the freezing cold I would have
been fully justified in destroying the entirety of the prison. If one is
allowed to kill in self defense, how much more should he be allowed to destroy
a cheap prison mattress to save his life. Although I reiterate I did not
destroy said mattress or anything else in the jailhouse. On numerous occasions
I was threatened with being sent to a mental hospital for observation. I was
told if I didn’t stop screaming they were going to come into the cell and stuff
a towel or rag in my mouth to shut me up. I told the jailer if he did I would
smash his blanket-blank head off. I also added that I hadn’t eaten all day.
Source: Chessmate by Roberto Hernandez
Tia Belau Newspaper
September 27-October 03, 2010
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