My original plan (after setting aside the absurd proposition of trying to turn the Slovak state against one of its own agents) for how to respond to my beatings at the hands of the Slovak police was to:

1. Leave the country
2. Publish the story online
3. Attempt to make a media story of the incident

I’ve done numbers 1 and 2 already. The question is now: should I do number 3?

I have the media and other contacts I need already, I think. If any of them chose to actually make a story of it is another question.

Possible outcomes include:

• Nobody touches the story
• It’s published, and yields some good
• It’s published, and my life gets even more difficult

A big part of me wants to strike back at these monsters. Another part recognizes that the first and third possibilities are the more likely ones.

As context to all of this, Bratislava is still home to me. I’d like to go back there and try to resume my life at some point.

What do you think?

I have done my best, in those years, to understand and to relate to what happens to them. I have cried with them, cried for them, and cried for the awful horror that is our common, human milieu.

I have cried and felt, especially, for those women — far too many — whom I have met, who have told me their stories of rape, spousal abuse, imprisonment at the hands of “lovers”, ongoing exploitation and debasement. And I have tried to relate. I have related to the level where, as above, I have cried not only for them, but for all of them who suffer these horrors — especially when, for whatever reasons, they feel they must remain silent.

And then, without being raped specifically, I’ve become a victim, too.

I haven’t been in a physical confrontation, prior to seven weeks ago, since the playground days of the mid-1980s. Those, always, I lost in short order. Some sand to the face, a punch in the belly, or, later, a deft evasion on my part, and the confrontation dissolved rather quickly.

I found myself, though, seven weeks ago, facing a monster far greater than any playground bully. I ultimately have no idea whatsoever what a woman trapped by her circumstances into either remaining silent about rape or deciding to tolerate daily abuse undergoes.

I do, however, map some of my own feelings in reaction to those I have come to known from those of my friends who have been there. The correspondences are not always perfect. I did not have to face the situation that Miroslav Pašek would continue living in my home, continue to pretend to be my protector or lover, or continue to play a part in my life.

Even so, I ran. I ran from Pašek’s territory. I ran from his hunting grounds.

I have never really understood before recently what it is to be a victim. I’m not entirely sure that I understand now, especially to the depth that the victims of rape and domestic violence I have known have been.

If I have gotten even the slightest taste, however, by means of what I have experienced, then I know that their reality is, in fact, far worse than I ever imagined.

This realization, along with my own emotions, makes me want to sleep all day, and shut out the world.

And, yet, I cannot.

Bruising to right upper arm showing finger impressions of Miroslav Pašek

Slovak State Police hired thug Miroslav Pašek has learned how to inflict great pain with his hands while leaving few if any marks on the victim’s body.

Most of the blows he struck against me were to my ribcage and upper chest. No bruising at all was ever visible there. Nevertheless, more than six weeks later, I still have twinges of pain in that area when I move or lay down in certain positions.

The bruise shown here is a product of Pašek momentarily losing control. When he came into my cell demanding that I sit up rather than lay down, he must’ve been gosh-awful furious that I wasn’t all instantly obedient. The bruise resulted from Pašek hauling me up from the bench by the arm, and clearly showed the shapes of three of his fingers.

Tisk tisk, Miro.

Bruising to left knee, courtesy of Miroslav Pašek

I’m not entirely certain how this injury to my knee arose. I may have been kicked or stomped in the knee after having fallen to the ground in pain after being hit. Or, it may be that my other knee impacted this one during one of those falls, and caused the bruise. Unclear to me.

This bruise was visible immediately. A second, even larger bruised emerged over the succeeding days higher up on the same leg. Similar uncertainty as to its origins.

All this stuff — except for the residual bruised-rib pain I mentioned above — is healed up now. Physically, I’m okay.

The psychological and emotional effects, however, are ongoing. I’ll be writing more about that in the near future.

How’s that Obama-charged hope working out for you?

Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)

• Related posts on g-20 protest
• FIST statement on police brutality at the G20 « Fight Imperialism …
• Mike Adams”Health Ranger” on Alex Jones Tv 5/5:Chemical-Based …

• Related posts on Gangsters in Blue
• Labour needs to get back to its roots at The Standard
• Gangsters in Blue

http://www.fr33agents.com/164/london-cops-waterboard-pot-suspects/

Man ‘cooked’ to death in Australian prison van

SYDNEY (AFP) — The family of an Australian Aboriginal elder who died after being “cooked” in the back of a scorching hot prison van may sue after a coroner branded his treatment inhumane.

A coroner Friday described the treatment of the 46-year-old man as a “disgrace” and inhumane, saying he would ask prosecutors to consider criminal charges over his death from heatstroke in Western Australia in January 2008.

His shirt here reading "Zen - Awakening - Mind", and looking like a terrible menace, we can all rest easier that the evil Mr. Ward was dispatched promptly by our overlords

The elder, known only as Mr Ward as his first name was withheld for cultural reasons, was transported 360 kilometres (225 miles) to jail in temperatures of up to 50 degrees Celsius (122 F) in a van with faulty air conditioning.

Ward, who was arrested a day earlier for drink driving, spent four hours in the searing heat between the mining towns of Laverton and Kalgoorlie, suffering third-degree burns where his body touched the metal floor, the inquest heard.

Western Australia Coroner Alastair Hope found that Ward was effectively “cooked” to death and heavily criticised the state prisons department, the private security firm that operated the van and the two guards who escorted Ward.

“It is a disgrace that a prisoner in the 21st century, particularly a prisoner who has not been convicted of any crime, was transported for a long distance in high temperatures in this pod,” Hope said.

The hearing was told that when Ward eventually arrived unconscious at hospital in Kalgoorlie, his body was so hot that staff were unable to cool him down. After an ice bath, which failed to save him, he had a body temperature of 41.7 degrees Celsius as opposed to a normal temperature of 37 degrees Celsius.

Mr. Coroner Alastair Hope has it wrong, of course. The disgrace is that the uniformed gangsters roaming the countryside being paid with money stolen from innocents and kidnapping people, throwing them in chains and metal boxes in order to take them to larger cages made of concrete and steel where they’ll be kept like animals, all without said kidnap victims having harmed anyone, don’t wake up one fine morning to find their severed heads mounted on pikes along the palisades of the free cities.

But, oh, geez, I forgot. That wouldn’t be “civilized”, now, would it?

I’m sure it’s a great relief for the people of Occupied Australia that the two outsourced thugs from G4S aka Group 4 Securicor contracted for prisoner kidnap victim transport, “have now been suspended,” a year and a half later.

He’s on something of a wanderjahr through Greater Cascadia, northern Aztlan and nearby regions, hitchhiking and walking. Tonight I asked him, again through SMS, was had happened. Here is his story, with minimal editing, straight off my phone:

They were good people and could do what they want.

I’m sure the foot soldiers of the Khmer Rouge thought the same thing.

And people ask me why I left America… Ha!

Victoria must pay tethered teen $30,000

Friday, November 28, 2008

VICTORIA – Willow Kinloch has been granted half of the $60,000 she won in a lawsuit after being tethered in Victoria police cells, with the payment of the rest hinging on an appeal of her case by the City of Victoria.

The city had applied for a stay, or suspension, of payment until the appeal is heard, perhaps sometime next spring. But Justice Mary Saunders of the B.C. Court of Appeal ruled Thursday that Kinloch is entitled to $30,000 now.

Kinloch’s case dates to 2005 when she was 15. A B.C. Supreme Court jury came up with the award earlier this year following a decision that officers had violated Kinloch’s charter rights.

Kinloch had been picked up by police in the downtown area for being drunk and was taken to police cells.

She spent about an hour screaming and banging on the walls before two officers tried to take her home to the apartment she shared with her mother.

The apartment intercom was broken and officers wouldn’t let Kinloch yell up to a window, so she was brought back to the police station. She did not want to return to a cell, and police described her as uncooperative. She ended up being bound at the ankles, tethered and left in the cell for four hours.

Kinloch is now in Thailand.

Here’s to hoping Ms. Kinloch is safe, given the unrest in Thailand at the moment.

See also:
The further education of Willow Kinloch
Victoria, BC citizenry to pay $60,000 to brutalized teen (includes video)

Paga impuestos… La policia no es para darte seguridad, es para proteger el dinero de la burguesia. Tu mismo pagas con tu sudor o con tu sangre el sadismo de algunos que nunca quisieron trabajar. All cops are bastards.