Welcome to Hell (6 page)

6

The captain directed me towards an empty office. When I came to the office door, he pushed me through it. I landed in the middle of the room and the door was closed behind me. There was no light. I was terrified.

The door opened again. Suddenly, six or seven men rushed in, and immediately started kicking the shit out of me.

They never said a word: they just beat and kicked me. I couldn’t defend myself because I was handcuffed. I just curled up on the floor and waited for it to end. I had no other choice. It was brutal.

After a couple of minutes they left as quickly as they’d come.

I just lay on the floor, bewildered. What the fuck was going on?

After about 20 minutes the light snapped on. I moved myself back into a corner and prepared for a second attack.

The door opened, and I braced myself.

The police captain walked in with two other officers. He never said a word; he just stared at me. The three men came over to me in the corner. I was still squinting from the light coming on suddenly, but I could just about make out their features. They stood over me and gave me a couple of hard kicks, then asked, ‘Why did you kill your friend?’

‘Fuck off!’ I yelled. ‘I haven’t killed anybody! What the fuck is going on?’

The only answer I got was, ‘Confess now, or you’ll be sorry!’

‘Confess to what?’ I screamed. ‘I haven’t done anything! But if you take off these handcuffs, I’ll rip your fucking head off!’

I threatened them because I was panicking. I had heard stories and rumours about police brutality. All I could think about was getting out. At that moment I didn’t care about the money. I just wanted to escape.

All I remember about that moment was images of my life flashing before me. I thought they were going to kill me. I was trapped; my nerves went and I desperately tried to imagine ways of escaping.

After subjecting me to more brutality, the three police left, closed the door, and a few seconds afterwards, turned out the light again. I tried my best to remain calm but I couldn’t.

After what seemed like an hour or so, they came back. The light snapped on again and this time five officers came.

There was a table and some chairs in another corner of the room, which I hadn’t noticed before. One of the officers brought over a chair, dragged me to my feet, then pushed me down onto it.

One officer stood behind me, holding my shoulders down, and there was one on either side of me holding down an arm and a leg each. Another one picked up two big telephone directories and stood to my right, just out of my line of vision.

The fifth officer picked up another chair and came and sat in front of me. They never said a word to me or even spoke to each other.

I felt like getting sick. I knew they were going to torture me but I couldn’t believe it was going to happen. I found this sensation terrifying. I pleaded with them to let me go but they wouldn’t. I begged one of them to help me. My breathing became deeper and deeper as I tried to relax and prepare myself for pain.

Suddenly the officer sitting on the chair nodded at the officer to my right.

Immediately, my head went numb.

The policeman had smashed two telephone directories against my skull. The pain went straight to the base of my spine. It was excruciating.

‘Why did you kill your friend?’ he barked. Droplets of spit landed on my eyes and face.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ I screamed.

He struck me again.

‘We know you killed him!’

‘I didn’t kill anybody!’

They attacked me in this way again and again. I tried to cope as best I could. I tried not to break down, but I couldn’t hold myself together.

Telephone directories are heavy and when someone brings one down hard on your skull, it hurts, believe me. After they’ve done it ten times you’re seeing stars. They don’t leave any marks, but they cause unbelievable pain.

I was sure that shocking my brain every time with heavy blows would lead to severe damage. I imagined myself sustaining a serious brain injury.

After about 20 minutes, the beating stopped. The officers got up abruptly and left, and the light went out again.

My nose had started to bleed. I could feel the blood trickling down my lip and taste it in my mouth. My head throbbed. I was in pain.

I felt excruciating pain in my neck and shoulders. If I’d received another couple of whacks with those phone books, I’d have passed out.

After another hour or so, they came back again. When they switched the light on this time, six or seven cops stampeded through the door.

I hadn’t moved, and when they came charging in they knocked me flying out of the chair. I struggled to get up but with my hands cuffed it was difficult.

The police captain stood in front of me and the others circled around. He never said a word. None of them spoke; they just stared at me. Then the captain nodded, and the others grabbed me.

I was terrified. I screamed at them for mercy.

This time, they had small circles cut out of cloth. They held me down and placed the cloth over my eyes and put a blindfold on. They already had me in handcuffs, but now they also tied my hands with cloth. Everything was prepared and they knew exactly what they were doing. They had obviously done this before.

I screamed for help. I prayed for someone to come and stop them. I would have given anything. I begged them to listen. I couldn’t stop crying but they never hesitated once. My pleas for mercy went unheeded.

They sat me cross-legged on the floor. I could tell by the direction of the voices that one cop stood behind me, one on either side, and the captain stood in front with two more.

They then all let go of their grip. I didn’t dare hope they had decided to stop torturing me, but I wasn’t sure what was happening. I can recall a brief moment where nothing happened. I thought they had come to their senses.

I was dazed and in pain. I hoped that was the end of the torture.

Seconds later I felt a metal prod around my groin. Then, they started electrocuting me with what must have been a cattle prod.

The pain caused by the electrocution varied in severity.

It actually depended on how long the police held the prod against my body and the strength of the current, which they were turning up and down.

I screamed out in pain. I hoped that someone would hear me, but no one came.

When you are being tortured, you are overcome by a surreal sense of disbelief. You keep hoping that it will stop but when you realize you are trapped, you begin to cope with the pain. This means that to get the desired effect, your torturer has to administer more and more pain.

None of them had spoken during the torture session. Now, their silence was broken by the Captain who asked me if the prod had hurt.

‘What do you think? Of course it fucking hurt!’ I roared.

They all laughed.

‘No, no, my friend,’ said the voice. ‘That didn’t hurt. But this will.’

They gave me a few more jolts with the cattle prod, only this time they increased the voltage. The pain was unbearable.

A few hours ago I had been sitting in the Captain’s office drinking beer with the officers and being congratulated for catching O’Connor. Now they were torturing me and laughing about it.

They zapped me a couple of times more, then they started to ask me again, ‘Why did you kill your friend? Where did you hide the body? We know you are a killer! Now tell us why!’

I screamed for help. I tried to explain that I hadn’t killed anybody. I’d been fighting with O’Connor’s bodyguard, but he wasn’t dead. He’d run off.

Every time I gave an answer they didn’t like, they electrocuted me with the cattle prod again.

After a while they began targeting the more sensitive parts of my body.

They pulled up my t-shirt and zapped me in the stomach, around the nipples and around the side of my chest. When this didn’t work, they began electrocuting my groin and my testicles.

The electric shock went right through me. Even my teeth hurt. It was unbelievable and unbearable. My muscles contracted every time I was zapped. I could feel the current in every part of my body.

All the time they kept firing questions at me. It went on and on. When they finally stopped, the officer behind me started to massage my shoulders. He told me that I was very strong, but it would be better for me if I confessed.

I wouldn’t confess to anything, especially not to murder!

Everybody has heard stories about police brutality and the third degree treatment, but this was torture – pure and simple.

They then left me alone for a short while. I remember that somebody came in and out of the room at this point. I was still blindfolded but I could hear the door and I could hear them whispering.

Suddenly, without a word, they grabbed hold of me and held me tightly down in the chair. The next thing I knew, they put a plastic bag over my head and pulled it tight at the back of my neck.

I began to struggle. I couldn’t breathe! I kept on struggling but it was no use.

The grip on the plastic bag was released a little, which allowed me to breathe again.

They asked the same questions.

‘Why did you kill your friend? We know you killed him!’

Again I answered that I didn’t know what they were talking about. I said I hadn’t killed anyone.

The grip on the plastic bag was pulled tight again, and I struggled to breathe. They knew I was holding my breath as much as I could, so they punched me a couple of times on the side of the face to make sure it was difficult for me.

I was sure my lungs were going to burst any second.

Then I blacked out. I don’t know how long I was unconscious for, but they brought me round with a bucket of cold water.

One of the police team slapped me a couple of times across the face to make sure I was fully conscious again. Then they said, ‘Now we kill you. You make too many problems for us.’

One of them produced a gun and put it to my head, and slowly began to pull the trigger. I could hear it.

‘Say you killed or we kill you! Confess, say you killed!’ came the voice in my ear.

Struggling was useless now. They had a strong grip on me and I didn’t have enough energy left to fight them.

‘Say you killed or we kill you! If you don’t confess you die like your friend!’

‘It’s very easy,’ said the Captain. ‘We say you tried to escape, so we shot you. No problem.’

The gun was shoved into my temple.

‘Now we kill you for sure!’

‘Say you killed!’

Again and again I tried to tell them that I hadn’t killed anyone, but they just ignored me.

If they wanted to kill me there was nothing that I could do to stop them. I didn’t want to die, but I accepted that it was about to happen.

But I was not going to confess.

When they realised that I had accepted that I was going to die and I no longer cared what they did, they began to beat me once again.

One of them grabbed me in a headlock. They placed a plastic bag over my head again, only this time the air was forced out completely, leaving the plastic clinging to my face.

This time, they’d grabbed me so fast that I had no time to prepare myself or catch my breath. In only seconds I was struggling once more for air. I could feel myself slipping. This time I was going to die.

* * *

I had held out, but at that moment in time, if they had promised to free me, I would have admitted to killing John F. Kennedy. Nobody wants to die; the human mind will do anything to keep itself alive. They had tortured me for about five hours, but I felt as if I’d been tortured for days.

Every man has a breaking point, and I had reached mine. I couldn’t take it any more; I would have done anything for this nightmare to stop.

They had broken me.

‘Okay, okay!’ I screamed. ‘Whatever you want!’

They never said a word. They just removed the plastic bag and the blindfold.

I felt an enormous sense of relief, but also dread. I wasn’t sure if they were going to attack me again.

I was temporarily blinded by the sudden rush of light, but I was soon able to make out what was around me. I couldn’t believe what I saw.

O’Connor was in the room. He had watched the police torturing me. He was sitting there, smiling at me.

At that point I wanted to die. I had always believed that I was right to have pursued O’Connor. Now I questioned myself and every decision I had made in the past few years. What had I done?

This feeling of utter desolation got even worse when I noticed a video camera mounted on a tripod in the corner of the room. The bastards had filmed the whole thing with O’Connor.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I asked the guy behind the camera.

He smiled and said, ‘Training. We use this film for training.’

They planned to use the footage of me being tortured to teach other cops how to inflict similar pain.

As I said, everyone has their breaking point and this was mine. At that point, I gave up hope.

The police eyed me cautiously. One of them told me they would give me a statement and I must sign it. I said I would do whatever they said. They looked at each other in surprise.

I was next taken over to sit at a table. The cop who’d been behind me during the torture session was now behind me again.

He started massaging my shoulders. I’d still know his touch even to this day.

I was very strong, he told me. Normally 20 minutes is enough. Five hours was the new record.

I felt sick. It was all a game to them. This man was a sadistic bastard.

Next, the confession was brought in. It consisted of a few pages, and was written out entirely in Thai.

I was told where to sign and I signed. Once I had scribbled down my name, my world totally collapsed.

I knew that I had just signed my life away but I didn’t care. I was a broken man.

As soon as I signed, I was taken out of the room into a large open area. I was put behind a table with O’Connor and several police officers. We all stood there for only a moment. Then TV crews rushed in with reporters, who screamed questions at me.