.Personal Effects Of Police Brutality.

This is going to be an unusually short blog post.

As seen in my earlier postings; I was once beat senseless, kidnapped, and psychologically tortured for 18.5 hours by the Halifax Regional Municipality Police Department.

Two shifts worth of it at least.

Now, every time a video is shared on Facebook; or any other platform; even just seeing the thumbnail causes a spike in adrenaline, leading to the increase in mental and physical stress; which then takes considerable effort to realign back into something of a productive energy; which is essentially what I am doing right now, after accidentally clicking a police brutality video, which on the thumb nail looked like something else entirely.

When  a police vehicle drives by, even though I am doing nothing illegal; I get an enormous boost in adrenaline; sometimes to the point that it leaves me shaking and sick feeling; which used to only happen after full out fist fights when I was a kid; it's the come down after a certain amount is released.

I've never had any problem with a criminal, or a terrorist; the only person who has ever used violence and threats of violence to push a political agenda on me, has been the police; and if I did have a problem with a criminal; if it were not for the police; I could just bury said criminal; which would probably make most criminals think twice about committing crimes against others. The criminals know the justice system will not tolerate lethal force, let alone hunting down and avenging an act...

Under Celtic law; order was maintained through honour; once your personal honour in the community dipped below a certain point, people could just start cutting off your arms and legs if they felt like it; with no legal consequences... But you were an asshole; and have no honour; so it's your own damn fault, isn't it?

People would also be exiled into the wilderness as a punishment for delinquency in the community; whereby they would die on their own, most likely eaten by some enormous over sized ancient wolf.

These day's the police themselves fall within these honourless bounds and grounds for exile; yet they are the ones enforcing the rules; most of which they are busy blatantly breaking themselves.

See how many police around you ever use their blinker to signal a lane change for the most basic example.

Then at the extreme end we have physical assaults, kidnappings, threats, and out right publicly witnessed and filmed murders; the acts of which are never justified, or the officer ever punished; usually receiving a 'paid suspension'.

So if you want to become a ruthless serial killer who gets paid  vacations every time he gets caught killing someone; become a cop.

Trials and Tribulations: My Story Within The Police State. Part III.

.Part III. 

.Sweet Glorious Freedom.

My thirst for water had taken on almost ravenous proportions.

Flushing the toilet for several minutes straight I ran the bottle in the upper half of the stream.

Upon closer inspection; the water was clear.

Fairly digestible looking; not floatsums.

Upon smelling it became clear this water was not good to drink.

Eventually my stomach tried to puke from not eating or drinking.

This produced little; as there was no food or water present.

The officers then started taking all the other prisoners out; a couple at a time.

Incidently in pairs that had been at each other all night.

What were the Police engineering?

More arrestes?

Higher quota?

Or were they bored bastards who actually enjoyed the concept of creating crimes to solve?

Around this time it became apparent that all the other prisoners had been left with their jackets, sweat tops and hoodys; while everything of mine had been taken away; being left with my under shirt; which was long sleeve thankfully; pants, socks and reminents of my sneakers.

It was freezing in that place.

After a very long time; and after everyone else was gone; they came and got me.

A soft younger Officer came and gently asked if I would behave should they let me out.

Presuming this ment I would not bomb the police station; I agreed.

He took me back out to the booking room.

Officer Robocop sat behind a desk.

The Gentle Officer politly asked me if I still wanted to talk with Mental Health Services as I had requested the day before when brought in.

"Um... I can assure you I did not request such a thing." I informed them.

"We can have the clinical nurses come in and have a talk with you." he gently implied again.

"Err... No thanks man; my family doctor says not to talk to strangers, you know what I mean? I just wanna get out of here and go crash."

"Are you sure? We can have them here very soon for you; and you can talk about all your problems with our nurses." he again insisted.

The plural really bothered me.

"Whoa now; I'm good thanks; most likly talking about the problems will only make it worse. You know; reflect it back on me from them so it gets worse?"; I informed the Gentle Officer; gently.

He nodded in response.

"Well; while we get your items why don't you wait in this room; that won't make you feel uncomfortable will it?" he gestured to a red door; a window looked in from the booking room and contained a sign.

"Holding Cell."

No good.

"Okay; I can do that."; was the some what delayed response.

In he took me; closing the door and returning to the booking room.

Officer Robocop and the Gentle Officer both took up position at computer terminals.

I could see the screens; and it appeared they were doing some kind of information seeking; a record or some kind of report on myself.

The Gentle Officer looked back over his shoulder after reading a lengthy piece of information; he shot me a nervous; almost threateningly nervous look.

At the exact same moment Officer Robocop proceeded to pick up a phone; glance at me once; and dial a number.

The walls started shrinking again.

Just like in the cartoons.

These guys are amatures.

The Gentle Officer went back over to the red door; and opened it.

Looking him in the eye, with a rather strained pair of eyes; I nodded in thanks for opening the door, collected my items and proceeded to head outside where I had been instructed I could put my shoe laces on.

Apparently if everyone put their shoe laces on INSIDE there would be massive back ups of people; however if they put their shoe laces on OUTSIDE there are no massive back ups of people.

Before leaving I approached the Gentle Officer and asked for the badge numbers of the charming fellows who arrested me the day before.

He responded that he has no information pertaining to that (You know; like an arrest report; or incident sheet which an officer would have filled out after the altercation.) and handed me a phone number for a complaints line which I was to complain to; without knowing who did what to me.

Huh... They really don't like to make things easy.

I emerged free at 10:30 a.m.

Around 18.5 hours after first being told it would be 4.

Truly; a strange land this "Jail" was.

All this because I reached for my back pack; and rookie cop had to show his masterful hunting skills to his new masters and trainers.

Bravo; young sir.

Your efforts have been noted.

It is clearly time that the Police and Government in general awoke once again to the fact that the People control the system; the system was not designed to control the people.

As I walked home I vowed to no break the law against our more violent human tendencies; this would give them an excuse to take me back to that horrible place.

I will not remain silent as they attempted to drill into my head however; as the tyrany of Government over the minds; and realitys of all the people of our plant must end; before it puts an end to everything we are.

The People made the Government; the Government did not make the People.

Read more at Part I & Part II

Trials and Tribulations: My Story Within The Police State. Part II.

.Part II.

.I hate jail.

For an unknown amount of time I sat alone in this strange new place; recalling a dream from 3 years ago of being held in a prison camp of some kind; where I was 33 years old and trying to keep a child alive. I was not like the other prisoners in this dream; something was different, but I could not differentiate what that difference was at the time. During these initial moments I discovered the toilet; the buttons on the toilet; one for flushing; two for the alleged water tap and sink combo; perched directly over the toilet. Only one of these buttons worked.

"May I please talk with someone??? I would like some INFORMATION about my SITUATION! Freedom of Information is one of our rights in this country is it not?"

Several moments later a pleasant; possibly French Canadian with impeccable mastery of the English language; which frankly showed the glaring intellectual handicaps of his English speaking counterparts; approached my cell and asked what I would like to know. I asked how long was I to be held in the cell; and if there was anyway I could possibly get out faster. Kindly he offered to me I had a minimum of 4 hours; if I behaved; however if I should cause trouble there was potential for a 24 hour visit. This seemed reasonable. So I sat on the hard metal bed, couch, dinning room table thing for a long time until another prisoner was brought in.

I am not sure if the kind possibly French Canadian Officer left before or after the new prisoner was brought in; I was lost in thought for the most part plotting massive terrorist attacks and the like which after some time and deliberation were deemed unfeesable; and without any windows and doors my sense of time and space was starting to drift.

After awhile visitors showed up for the other prisoner; and the new in charge Officer; he was a pudgy; bespectacled man of a pot bellied nature and a demenour to match. The visitors repeatedly demanded food and water for their friend; which after a long time was delivered.

One Power Bar; with massive amounts of manly nutrients in it, and one 500ml bottle of water; as per instructed on the aforementioned Power Bar, for each of us. This was greatly appreciated; as I had only just eaten breakfast and not yet reached my lunch time; and the stress from the arrest had drained most of that food based nutrients.

From time to time the new guard; Officer Gestapo Pig, would walk down the hallway leading to my cell to the point where it seemed he would enter the block and potentially open the door; as suggested by the keys he carried in hand with purpose each time he did this.

After much time more prisoners were brought in. This time a group; very sociable and talkative.

Bordom took over and I could not focus on being lost in though from all the noise being produced by other prisoners; hooting and hollering; and so forth.

I let out a couple animal calls; and they responded in kind; so back and forth in what to me appeared as a game of animal calls we hooted.

Officer Gestapo Pig came back to inform me that he will not tolerate any noise whatsoever from me; none; zip; if I wanted to get out I had to be completely quiet.

He left; without instructing any other prisoners to be utter silent.

This seemed rather strange to me; others were allowed to make noise; even openly and daringly taunting the Police; however never once insisting to them that the pen was mightier then the sword. Which I had done at this point several times; out in the booking room at least once when taunted by Officer two for "Being an Artist." and then a couple times while being taken down the hallway; then a couple times to Officer Gestapo Pig.

So with the passing of time; the second prisoner was taken away; and the group continued to hollar and have fun; while Officer Gestapo Pig came down any time I said something and informed me of the utter silence being imposed upon me. So I mostly poked around looking for escape routes; should my tenure in this cell become a permanent part of my life; which it was starting to feel like given the amount of information being detailed to me and the attitude of Officer Gestapo Pig.

Officer Gestapo Pig brought in another prisoner.

He was quiet; and the only one in quiet conversational range. However he was not a talking person and so for a long time all was silent except the disembodied voices of people having a strangely good social horse play time down the hallways; these bounced around in a sea of sound that was so systematically disorienting and alien feeling to my senses that eventually my mind began to feel odd.

My attempts through out the night to get any more water were met with hostile answers that I had a water tap; however none of these random Officers seemed capable of even spending a single second listening to another human being.

So I sat contemplating how sanitary the toilet water REALLY was.

It SEEMED clean; however closer inspection showed that even a stainless steel toilets can retain some stain. This was not; at this point a viable option.

The other cells around the area had started filling up; prisoners were yelling and hollering at each other; all and everyone being loud; and once again; Officer Gestapo Pig would come around to walk near my door way with his keys tauntingly then walk off saying I had to behave.

This was when things started getting rather weird for me personally. Everything up to this point was fine.

Suddenly.

A officer walked down the hallway.

A prisoner asked what time it was; the Officer stated:

"About quarter to one."; very casually and walked off.

All day I had been asking for the time as my internal clock was going haywire from the glaring lights and lack of a view outside. Ignored every time I started feeling disoriented from that also.

Without any warning; as much was today when dealing with the Police.

A feeling. Perplexed.

The a cascading rainbow of others mounted on top of it: caged; captured; boxed in; and utterly suppressed in every way shape and form. My captors it seemed had literally taken me hostage; and the only way out was this utterly elusive "good behaviour and utter silence".

A wave of fire ran over my molecular structure as each atom started it's own scream at this situation; these were the signs of a panic attack; or potentially a nervous break down.

Man; if only I had smoked a joint today; this would have been a lot more tolerable.

My fellow prisoners were all loaded out of their minds on booze and who knows what else and having a rather good round of bored social conversation. While Officer Gestapo Pig continued to remind me that I was not allowed to speak out loud with the other prisoners and to jingle his keys as he; for no apparent reason, along now with several other Officers who repeatedly committed the same action, with keys in hand at now regular intervals.

The cage seemed rather small at this point; and the absurd amount of bars; which at this point were noticeably reflecting subtle shadows and light on all the walls of more bars; on top of the glare of the light which at this point was causing an after glow of even still more bars from looking at the bars.

That's when two older prisoners started having a rather loud conversation about the existence of God; and why one man with a strong, broad voice that silenced everyone in the jail with a sentence uttered and gushing wisdom spoke of how he believed with everything he was made of in the Creator of All; while the other who sounded rather disheveled and spoke of his utter disdane of the thought of a god.

Many of the other prisoners fell silent; chiming in from time to time; along with myself on small fragments of our own personal opinions.

Almost as if under neith these two wise men the sides had been drawn and only the belief oriented prisoners bantered back and forth.

Those who did not believe seemingly punctuating everything with death.

The strong voiced man stated all God has given us is ourselves; and that is all we should need on this planet; along with the acceptance that human is not the highest level of being.

Along with this he stated that all we can count on is love.

It felt like someone had shot every prisoner; they al all fell silent and listened to what this man had to say.

At this point I was wondering if I was even awake; asleep; or possibly in some very strange reality that was not of my own.

The disembodied voices arguing back and forth; bouncing up and down the hallways all became a little too much and I hit the emergency kill switch.

Bursting in manic laughter I staved off another wave of intense panic and capture; this place had officially become weirder then anything I have ever been in before.

Officer Gestapo Pig came down the hallway.

"I would let you go but you keep acting like an orangutang! Smarten up!"

Man; I hated that guy.

The weird discussion continued into the night; time had been strung up and given to the Police to do as they will with.

More prisoners were brought in; soon the whole place was packed.

The older men had gone to sleep.

Now all that remained was the bored conversations of prisoners.

Due to the fact most everyone in there was tanked the first element of their boredom of course consisted of destructive natures. As they could not physically do this; they did so though their words. Even though it was a maddening circle of "Faggot; pussy; ect ect ect" the comedy tact displayed by various prisoners was genius.

The whole night the strongest feeling was the prisoners were the true humans; and our captors the Police; some kind of cold beings who delighted in tormenting whoever they could.

This was more pleasant; like a sitcom; playing around these strange concrete walls.

I felt calm; complacent.

This wasn't so bad.

Thirst eventually became an issue again.

The toilet looked mighty good.

A new officer had started making the rounds.

Officer Robocop couldn't hear a word I said.

However at one point I mentioned the continuous creeping panic and he mentioned that a nervous break down had led him to becoming a Police officer.

Great.

So I determined that I would never become a cop in that moment; and sluffed the panic off.

Many, many, many hours had passed at this point.

An officer said it was 4:30 a.m.

Then another a while later said it was 4 a.m.

Those bastards.

No one else knew or cared; most were too drunk to noticed and a majority had worked themselves into the ground and passed out on their cold metal bunks.

The police kept telling me to go to sleep.

I tried; but even when at home I can stay awake for a very long time; especially when I have been locked in a small box all day with no movement available to me.

So I tried to wear myself out doing push-ups and other kind of monkey business I could get into with the cell. Since my sneakers had no laces and were ripped to pieces they offered little in the way of actually shoe services my activities were limited.

Eventually the Police started hinting constantly that the time of our release was near. They said it was 6 am; then 5:30; then various other times that just blurred away as mental fatigue set in.

Aliens started appearing in the hallways and on the walls; various strange things flittered around and each strange visage that passed I asked if they could get the stupid door open for me.

Each one said I had to keep learning in this environment.

So onwards I went.

Wonder what and where those strange things on the walls kept coming from; and where they went when I looked directly at them. Not aliens so much; more like little butterflies but with a strange digital clock look about them.

This place was really starting to get to me.

What the coppers did to me.

Read more at: Part I & Part III

Trials and Tribulations: My Story Within The Police State. Part I

Okay... This is a doozy... I hope you have a solid attention span if you intend on experiencing this in full.

This is a real life experience, I got kidnapped by the local police, beaten up, and psychologically tortured for 18.5 hours; then when I got home, pounded this out to make sure it was written while everything was fresh; and sent it out to local media, who ignored it; filed a complaint with the local obudsmen, who was supposed to do an external investigation; then got a letter a few months later from the chief of police himself who had taken over the investigation and done a personal internal investigation, and the officers stated to him I had taken a fighting position and attacked them; leading to the malarkey that ensued.

They also did not read me my rights after beating me up and while kidnapping me.

So here goes.

A series of letters addressed to the media.

The noise making starts here.

.Part I.

.Just A Normal Day.

The day of May 23, 2008 started as any other; this day brought me a goal of taking some movies to my friend, Meaghan's house so she may enjoy them while I am on a journey in the future; so to speak.

Upon arriving at the Commons, I became aware of a Police Van driving down the walk paths; forcing people off onto the grass. It stopped as the officers operating it made direct eye contact with me.

As I rounded the bend, towards the public washrooms; the van back around and turned to face me, hidden behind the bathroom building.

Turning the corner; it was obvious both officers were now staring intently at me with hostile intentions. The driver rolled down his window and ordered me in a combative tone of voice to:

"Stop, and come here; now!"

I responded:

"What? Why?"

Both officers then exited the vehicle and the hairs on my neck began to rise. They walked in very close and with a typical box in menuver so I could not look at both of them at the same time.

"You look like a suspect in a robbery."; said the driver.

"Well; I didn't do it cause I just woke up."; I stated.

"That dosn't mean anything; what is in the bag?"; said his side kick refering to my back pack.

"Movies that I am taking to my friends house."

"Let me see that", officer 2 reached out.

Giving them a questioning glance; attempting to nonverbally assert my rights as a law abiding, tax paying Canadian Born Citizen; and thus their boss; resulted in both officers stepping closer in an intimidating manner.

Slight taken aback I complied.

I opened the front pocket by accident at first; revealing three bottles of water. Two empty; one full of murky mixed down Starbucks coffee stuff (Not originally mine.) with water; I was trying to make coffee water...

Slightly embarrassed I opened the second, larger pocket.

Many movies sat present.

Officer two grabbed the bag from me and started going through it all.

"So what do you do man? Whats your job?"; Officer two demanded.

"I am an Artist, dude."; I replied casually.

"What do you mean?"; Officer two had a hard time understanding this.

"I am an Artist, jeeze, you want me to draw you a picture or something?" I stated in a terrible attempt to amuse myself.

Turning to Officer one I asked:

"Is this guy for real?"

"Yeah he is VERY REAL." he replied; as if I needed assistance with this tiny speck of matter within reality."

Looking back at Officer two I replied again.

"I am an Artist, I do lots of stuff."

"Well I ment are you a painter or what?" he retorted.

This was wearing thin on my own personal nerves.

"Dude, I am no one--"

Being cut off at that point as Officer one, the driver, started questioning me.

"Whats your problem?"

"Um? I just woke up, and now some cop is barking in my face... Not to mention the only medicinal drug avaliable that will undo my "problem" (Cranky is my problem.) is illegal; refering to marijuana; and that there was a Government suppressing the people rather then being represented by the people."

Typical hippy crap.

"I don't like the Government either man!"; Officer two volleenteered.

"Then why are you working for them?", pretty simple question.

Officer two continued going through my bag; making snarky remarks about my selection of video viewing variety, when I looked back at Officer One and inquired:

"Let me guess; good cop, bad cop?" suggesting Officer One; being slightly less testosterone driven was the "good" cop.

"We are all bad cops." he replied with a menecing grin.

Officer two had finished violating my VHS and zipped up the back pack.

"Thats private property you ass--"

Before the sentence had even FINISHED:

Things took a very rapid turn for the worse.

Some how; between reaching for the bag; and informing the officer of the social status surrounding my knapsack; Officer two grabbed me and slammed me into the ground; gashing open my shoulder. He then inserted what felt like a knee into my upper torso into my lungs and heart; after smashing my head on the pavement twice, face first, thankfully saved by my forehead; he smashed what at the moment of Now in the story looked and felt very much like a large knee into my throat.

This sensation I was not familiar with at all.

My blood and breath were instantly cut off; and my nervous system blew into a state of survival mode; however all my limbs were locked by both Officer one and Officer Two.

A third time my head hit the pavement.

"Don't fight us man! Your only making it worse for yourself!!!" Officer two was screaming in my face.

I was not fighting; my perception was dimming on and off like flickering floresenct light bulb and my lungs screamed for air while blood pooled in my head and my nervous system spazzed out trying to save my life.

Some how I managed to stop my limbs from moving; or maybe my inner workings just took over and realized that playing dead was the only route to survival at this point.

They continued hammering on my throat.

Everything continued to fuzz in and out as I attempted to explain that they were killing me.

For several very, very, very long moments after I ceased activity Officer two continued to squeeze on my very clingings of life; screaming in my face about how I was a punk and needed to learn a lesson about respecting authority and such and that if I just didn't fight he would stop attempting to murder me.

Suddenly my arms were freed by Officer two.

Only to be hand cuffed, in a purposefully painful twisting position.

Only after I was hand cuffed did the massive body of Officer two remove himself from my breathing/blood pumping/nervous system apparatus.

I was informed I was going to possibly be charged with a breach of the peace; for my "Out burst.'' by both Officers each time I questioned why I was being led to a paddy wagon.

They twisted my arms in opposite directions constantly.

I felt like I was going to shit my pants; and informed the officers of this;

"Go right ahead." Officer two replied, then they tossed me in the back of the van.

"Have you previously been arrested?"; Officer two asked.

"Yes; once a few years ago; when you boys booked me as the perpetrator and the victim in an armed robbery. Real good work there fellas; obviously he robbed himself!"

At no point was I read my rights.

The drive down was rather uneventful beyond me saying they were gonna go to hell for suppressing the innocent people of the world with their governments; and them telling me I was going to jail.

Upon arriving at the Gottengen Street Police HQ; a greeting party had formed. Several large Robot Officers waited; smiling; as if expecting a form of entertainment to arrive.

Great.

They wanna go to the circus.

And I'm the clown.

This is why clowns cry I think to myself.

The posse led me down a hallway; turned right and entered a booking room of some kind.

They stripped my of my belt; tore my trustworhty - and - only sneakers to pieces; cut my decorative pumpkin belt apart, and generally made a good show of me for what was a room full of cops; all coincodently staring right at me.

Odd the things one picks up in the run of a day.

"My throat is sore man; like all screwed up sore. Why'd you jack your knee into me?" I inquired of Officer two; who sat across the room preening himself on the glory of a good kill.

"That was my hand punk; and we have witnesses that your were fighting us."

This was strange; because in the slowed down; adrenaline fueled moments of fight or flight I remember looking around praying someone was seeing this and riding in on a stallion to save me (Stressful moments bring stressful thinking.) and the entire area was clear of people; save for one pedestrian far enough away they looked shorter then a match stick.

Still failing to read me my rights; they bossed and ordered me around through bully tactics to do as instructed; threatening physical retribution. They asked if I would "Behave", after my handcuffs were removed.

I agreed; not really in a position to barter.

After the cuffs were off I was free to inspect my wounds; which is when I pointed out the bloody gashes on my shoulder; Officer one glanced and snorted.

Then they put my shoes back on me; and Officer one led me down the hallway with was could have been two other Officers; however they all stayed behind me so I am unsure exacally; there were multiple bodies moving about though.

To cell Number Seven I was escorted.

"I want a phone call; a lawyer; and some charges or reasons for why I am going through this!" I demanded.

"You don't get ANY of those!" Officer one informed me.

"Why am I being put in here?"; I asked rather indigently.

"Because you are crazy." responded the Officer as if he was a trained psychologist.

However his only real analysis of my person had been in a combative, then physically combative environment. In my opinion my reaction was the same as anyone who was suddenly attacked; physically suppressed; then essentially kidnapped.

Rather distressed.

It was approximately 4 o'clock in the afternoon at this point.

Read more at: Part II & Part III