“I WAS TORTURED IN THE PASADENA JAILHOUSE!"
"I
WAS TORTURED IN THE PASADENA JAILHOUSE!" by BOBBY FISCHER THE WORLD CHESS CHAMPION Copyright
(c) 1982 by Bobby Fischer All rights reserved Published byBOBBY
FISCHER
Bank Robbery...
About 2:00 p.m. Tuesday afternoon, May 26, 1981, as I was peacefully and
lawfully walking towards Lake Street in Pasadena across from the Kaiser
Permanente medical offices, a policeman in a car suddenly pulled up alongside
the curb and said he wanted to talk to me because I fitted perfectly the
description of a man who had just committed a bank robbery. I politely told him
he had the wrong man and I hadn't committed any bank robbery, and that I didn't
know anything about it whatsoever.
The policeman then proceeded to ask me a number of questions
regarding my name, residence, age, etc. I answered all of these questions
politely and truthfully. He then began to repeat the questions over and over
again. I answered them over and over again. He asked for my identification and
I showed it to him. He asked how long I'd lived in the area, and where I was
from originally. I told him. He asked what I did for a living and I told him.
Suddenly a second police car pulled alongside and I was soon
surrounded by at least three or four policemen. On at least three or more
separate occasions I was asked where I lived, and I told them I didn't have the
exact street address but since it was only a block or two away I would show
them where it was. They showed no interest whatsoever in this reasonable
suggestion. The policeman who had just arrived in the second car began to
repeat the same questions that the policeman in the first car had asked. I told
him I'd already answered those questions. I was asked for my driver's license
and I told them I didn't drive.
The policemen became extremely hostile and threatening in
their manner. They began to say among themselves, "He's probably wanted
out of state." - "You think we should arrest him?" - "Yeah,
I think so, let's take him down to headquarters," etc.
Serious...
At one point early in the questioning by the first officer before the second
car had arrived I was told, "This is serious." This simple statement
spilled the beans on the entire police operation and clearly revealed it to be
the filthy stinking set up it was. If the officer really believed I had just
robbed a bank, the officer would know that I damn well knew it was
"serious" and he wouldn't make such a stupid statement.
Arrested...
As I stated earlier, the officers began to repeat the same questions over and
over again, interspersing comments among themselves that they'd have to take me
to the station. I said, "I don't know anything about this bank robbery and
I've already answered your questions and I don't have to give you any further
answers to the same questions." I said, "I have the right to remain
silent after giving you basic information about myself." The officer,
said, "Well, you're thinking of New York state. The laws are different out
here."
The questions and threats to arrest me continued. I said,
"I'm not answering any more questions. lf you want to arrest me, arrest me
- that's it." The one officer from the second car who was obviously the
leader of the pack said, "Arrest him!"
Brutally
Handcuffed...
I was immediately handcuffed in a brutal fashion, the police pushing my hands
way, way up behind my back and causing me considerable discomfort and pain.
Later I saw that the metal had torn into the flesh of both my wrists. I was put
into a police car but was unable to move in far enough for them to close the
door because there is some kind of a hump in the middle of the back seat. After
several attempts to shut the door by brutally pushing my right leg with his
right leg, the officer finally succeeded in closing the door by pushing my leg
in with the door itself. Later I saw that my right knee had turned black and
blue.
False
Arrest...
At one point as they were leading me into the car after they had arrested me, I
saw the officer that had first approached me continue the bank robbery charade.
He showed the leader of the pack officer what appeared to be a photocopy of an
artist's rendition of the supposed bank robbery suspect. I also saw the
picture. With the exception of the fact that we both wore beards, the picture
did not look in the least bit like me. The man in the picture wore glasses, his
face was completely different from mine, the hair on his head was different,
etc., etc.
It was absolutely impossible to mistake me for him. And if
after honestly (which was definitely not the case here) mistaking me for the
man in the picture, it could not possibly take more than a few seconds at most
by comparing the picture with my face to realize the mistake.
But obviously the bank robbery bit was just a lying
transparent pretext for approaching and arresting me. The officers never had
the slightest question in their minds that I might be the so-called "bank
robber." The officer who showed him the picture said, "It looks just
like him, doesn't it?" The leader of the pack officer said, "Naw,
that's not him."
On the way to the police station an announcement came over
the police car radio on the police band. One officer said, "That's it -
they just caught the bank robber!"
Insulted...
On the way to the station, I was insulted several times, called an asshole,
etc. At some point (perhaps it was already at the jailhouse) the police said,
if I wasn't such an asshole they wouldn't have arrested me. After we got to the
police station and I got out of the car, I said, "Well, you've got the bank
robber. What do you want with me now? He said, "We just want to talk to
you inside." I said, "About what?" Answer - "Let's just
talk inside." Inside they began repeating the same questions again. I was
seated and still had my hands handcuffed behind my back. When I refused to give
them any more information I was physically attacked.
Choked...
The leader of the pack officer said, "We want to find out what this is all
about!" Without any provocation of any kind on my part, he grabbed my
throat with one hand and started choking me by the neck, pushing me backward in
the chair (throughout all this "interrogation," savagery and physical
assault, I was seated and with my hands handcuffed behind my back) and putting
his face close up to mine grimaced and shouted, "Talk!"
As he was choking me a woman who apparently worked there
walked by. She quickly turned her head to the left to look in the room to see
what the commotion was all about. When she saw that I was being choked by the
neck she quickly turned her head away and continued walking down the hallway.
She obviously didn't want to see something she shouldn't see and get involved
on my behalf to save my life - it could cost her her job, you know. The crazed
officer who was choking me realized he'd been a little careless and with his
hand still on my neck choking me he told another cop to close the door. The
choking episode continued for perhaps about a total of 10 or 20 seconds. When
the crazed officer saw that I refused to talk or cringe and whine and beg for
mercy, he released my throat and jumped back with a fearful look in his face
like he'd just seen a ghost.
I said, "I don't believe this - being choked by the
neck with my hands handcuffed behind my back by a policeman at the station to
get me to talk. I thought this was only in the comic books!" A couple of
the officers chuckled at my naiveté. The leader of the pack crazed officer
snapped, "Book him!" and took off.
Assailant
Description...
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
thirties or early forties, 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
hyperaggressive, like a littie 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 described him thusly 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.
Stark
Naked...
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 refused to answer any
more questions and after they had taken all my personal 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.
No
Phone Call...
I was refused the right to make a phone call.
After the desk officer joker locked the door of the cell he
snickered, "The phone's on the wall." Of course, there was no phone
there.
Horror
Cell...
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 some time Wednesday morning,
May 27, when I was transferred to another cell that made my first cell seem
like a picnic.
Isolation
& Torture...
This cell was a kind of isolation cell. Way in the far corner overlooking the
street, it had two windows on different walls 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 extremely drafty and cold and
dank.
Of course, my 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 of 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 that I had nothing
more to say to these gangster police officers of Pasadena!!! Incredible, but
true.
After I had 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.
Mental
Hospital...
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're 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.
Starving
& Freezing...
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.
Inside
Mattress...
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 do 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 mattress. I said,
"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 one or even a
thousand of those mattresses, or even 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 blankety-blank head off. I
also added that I hadn't eaten all day.
T.V.
Dinner...
The next thing I knew I was brought my first food for over 24 hours, which
shows you never know what to expect next in a madhouse. It consisted of two
T.V. dinners and a littie bit of a soft drink. I ate one T.V. dinner and
decided to save the other one for later since the "room service" was
so irregular. A while later, however, I was transferred back to the cell they'd
put me in originally when I first came to the jailhouse. I asked the jailer to
let me take the other T.V. dinner with me but he refused permission.
No
Water...
The cell they returned me to now had no running water. They claimed they just
couldn't understand it; "the water and plumbing had worked just fine in
there before," - chuckle, chuckle. After I was returned to this cell for
what seemed like a very long time - some ten hours or so or perhaps more - I
became very, very thirsty, having had only a small amount of water to drink
since my arrival. (Of course, how could I know they would later deny me even
this basic necessity?)
Sick
Cop...
I told them I was hungry and especially thirsty, and that there was no running
water in my cell. Just to make doubly sure I didn't get any water to drink, the
toilet was full of urine. They either laughed, made snide remarks, ignored me,
or told me I was being "punished" for my attitude. Finally, after
countless repeated requests for water, a big, tall blond or red-headed cop came
over to my cell window and smiled in and said, "Here, I've got some water
for you." Something about his "friendly" laughing attitude made
me suspicious, and I said, "Open the door and bring it in - I can't take
it through the steel mesh opening. It's too small, how can I get it?"
He answered, "You ever hear of a straw? Come here, I'll
give it to you through a straw." I half suspected something was up and as
I got up out of the bunk I found I was right - he threw the water all over my
back and on the metal bunk and on the small pieces of toilet paper I had placed
on the metal bunk to make it ever so slightly softer. The big cop walked away
laughing hysterically. He was saying to his jailer officer buddies, "Did
you see that? Ha, ha, ha!" I said, "You're really sick, only a sick
person would do that." He said, "I know it, ha, ha, ha, that's
why they hired me, ha, ha, ha, ha!" This is typical of the kind of sicko's
and whacko's who run the Pasadena jailhouse and work for the Pasadena police
force.
Police
Indecency...
I should also add that in the jailhouse there are lady jailers and female
prisoners. The female jailers were constantly walking past my cell and could
see right into it and see me stark naked. The same for women prisoners. I
remember at least one colored young lady prisoner being led past my cell. Where
is the decorum and decency in all this? Also, I was twice forced to walk stark
naked down the hallway of the jailhouse when I was transferred to different
cells, in plain view of all.
Threats...
Later I was threatened again with being sent to a mental hospital for 30 days
observation, then I'd be sent back here, and he said something about Norwalk,
or Norfolk. Numerous times I told them I thought I had the constitutional right
under the fifth amendment to remain silent. They replied, "No, not until
you give us the information we want." I said, "You mean you're just
going to keep me here forever, incommunicado until I talk?" "That's
right," was the answer. "Here, or we'll send you to a mental
hospital. You're obviously a very sick person."
Finally some time on Thursday morning, May 28th, I received
my breakfast, which consisted of a few tablespoons of milk, a small carton of
sugar coated cornflakes, and a canned peach slice. This was the first liquid I
had had in a very long time.
Same
Questions & Answers...
A man who said he was the chief jailer there, an older white-haired cop, told
me that the reason my clothes were taken away from me was that I might use them
to commit suicide since I was obviously crazy. I said, "Well, have
somebody watch me then." Answer - silence. Then he promised to send me to
the judge that morning if I'd answer just five questions. I asked him to tell
me the five questions (it turned out to be six) in advance and I'd consider it.
The six questions were:
#1. Your name
#2. Your place of birth
#3. Your date of birth
#4. Your address
#5. Your height
#6. Your weight
I answered the questions and some time later was given my
clothes back. I got dressed and was transferred to a big cell with several
other prisoners.
Police
Crimes...
The police now for the first time answered my questions about what the charges
were. They told me the charges against me were interferring with the duties of
an officer. (I joked to some of the other prisoners that I was being charged
with "interferring with the crimes of an officer.")
I was also told that I had a second charge against me now I
was brought into the jail, i.e., destruction of prison property, namely a
prison mattress. The old white-haired chief told me the mattress cost $80.00
new. "You're going to be charged with destruction of prison property for
getting in that mattress." They also told me that bail was set at $ 500.00
on each count, for a grand total of $ 1,000.00 (one thousand dollars) cash.
I told the head jailer that now I wanted to see the judge as
be'd promised. He broke his word and said that there'd now developed some
problem and that I wouldn't be able to see the judge today, that I'd have to
wait until tomorrow for that.
Phone
Call...
I was allowed to make phone calls from the public pay phone in this new cell. I
called someone and told them the situation, that I'd been arrested, choked by
the neck, and held in the Pasadena jailhouse incommunicado and stark naked for
the past 48 hours or so, etc. The person was shocked but relieved to hear from
me since naturally the person had been very worried about my disappearance.
Fingerprints...
After the person came down to the jailhouse and put up the bail money, I was
taken to a special room for a mug shot and to be fingerprinted. I asked the
head jailer what if I refused to be fingerprinted, what would he do? He said
they'd break every bone in my hands if they had to to get those fingerprints.
Signed
Unread...
After the mug shot and the fingerprinting, thumb printing, hand printing, palm
printing, etc., I was told to sign numerous documents, perhaps as many as 10 or
more. I told the chief jailer that I like to read documents before I sign them.
He insisted that I just sign them.
I reiterated my previous statement and started to read them.
He demanded that I sign the documents at once without giving me time to even
partially glance at them. He covered the document with his hand and arm and
said, "All that concerns you is this here part at the bottom of the
page," indicating what looked like a kind of stamp or form letter part of
certain words which I did not have time to read either.
Having had little or no sleep for over two days and
suffering from exhaustion, and knowing that a document signed under physical
duress has no validity in law, and being in a hurry to get out of that damn
hell hole, I signed the documents without reading them. I was not allowed to
read them.
For all I know I signed a confession that I killed 20
Pasadena police officers and that I destroyed all the mattresses in the entire
jailhouse and then tore the jailhouse down with my bare hands.
No
Written Charges...
The charges made against me until now, two weeks later, are still all verbal. I
have received no written accusation of any charges against me whatsoever. All
they gave was two receipts for $500.00 bail on each one. No accusations on
them, and as a matter of fact no clear command to appear anywhere.
(No)
Money Back...
Finally I was taken back to the desk where I had checked in at and had left my
personal belongings some two days earlier. As I was putting my belongings in my
pockets, I noticed that my wallet was empty of money. I remembered that when I
left home that Tuesday I had nine dollars in cash and well over another dollar
in change. I also distinctly remembered counting out the bills when I was checked
into the jail and they took my belongings. I remembered clearly the arresting
officer snickering as he counted out the bills, "Six, seven, eight, nine
dollars," snicker.
So now I said to the chief jailer, "Hey, where's my
money? I had ten bucks." He shouted, "No, you didn't! You had no
money when you came in here! " I said, "What are you talking about? I
had ten dollars." Some kind of eye communication went on between the chief
jailer and the man behind the desk. The chief jailer quickly changed his attitude
and asked the man behind the desk if I came in there with the money. He nodded
and said, "Yes," or something, and the chief jailer quickly gave me a
ten dollar bill and marked something on a piece of paper, or made as if he were
marking something on a piece of paper.
Incidentally, I had given them when I checked in either a
five dollar bill and four ones plus well over a dollar in change or nine ones
plus well over a dollar in change (I'm 99% sure it was the former). What
happened to those bills and change is an interesting question in itself. I had
previously been given three dimes by the chief jailer for my phone calls so I
didn't bother arguing about the exact change that might still be due me,
especially since it looked like I was actually about to get out of that hell
hole.
That afternoon I was told I could go, and an electronically
operated gate was opened and I took the elevator down and left the jailhouse. A
while later I noticed that several pills of mine had been stolen by the police/jailers.
I presume they destroyed the pills hoping to find that they were illegal. When
they found nothing - well, bye-bye pills.
Sham...
Legality is a sham at the jailhouse. There are No Smoking signs everywhere, and
no smoking is rigidly enforced - for the prisoners. Bul I noticed a
light-skinned colored cop/jailer smoking whenever he pleased.
Numerous interesting and curious questions arise regarding
why I was stopped by the policeman as "a bank robbery suspect." The
first officer who stopped me said, "There's just been a bank
robbery...," etc. Then a few minutes later in the police car on the way to
the police station, an officer told me that they'd just picked up the bank
robber. My question is how could the police have had a photocopy of an artist's
rendition of what the bank robbery suspect looked like in the short time that
presumably had occurred between the time of the bank robbery and the time the
first officer (photocopy of the artist's rendition of the bank robber in hand)
had approached me?
Unasked
Questions...
Why wasn't I asked any questions about the bank robbery if that were the real
reason I was stopped? I was never asked where I'd been the last few minutes,
never told what bank had been robbed, how much had been taken, etc. I was not
out of breath from running, had no weapon, only a little cash on me. They never
bothered to check my face against that of the artist's rendition of the bank
robber until after I was already arrested. To say the whole thing stinks and is
a frame up and set up is to put it mildly.
True
Events...
The foregoing text was written between about June 5 and June 8, 1981, then
later typed, edited, slightly revised, corrected, etc. However, no attempt has
been made to bring it up to date or to incorporate later information or events,
etc. It is a brief outline, a hastily written sketch, of the horrendous and
incredible but absolutely true events that occurred to me in my life between
about 2:00 p.m. Tuesday, May 26, 1981, and about 1:30 p.m. Thursday, May 28,
1981. I do not pretend that this is literature. However, it is absolutely
accurate in all the main points, at least a thousand times more accurate and
truthful than anything you will hear from the other side - i.e., the policemen
and the jailers and all the rest of the law enforcement authorities. Perhaps in
the future when I have more time to devote to it I will write a revised and
expanded and even more accurate and painstakingly written account of these
events.
Sincerely,
Robert D. James (professionally known
as Robert J. Fischer or Bobby
Fischer,
The World Chess Champion)
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