Newsgroup: it.hobby.scacchi
Titolo: "I was tortured in the Pasadena Jailhouse!" di Bobby Fischer

Visto che siamo in tema-Fischer, riporto per intero il suo libro del
1982, di cui forse pochi sono a conoscenza.
Secondo alcuni sara` off-topic, ma secondo me si tratta sempre di
scacchi. Parlare solo di scacchi!??!? E gli scacchisti? :-)
********************
"I WAS TORTURED IN THE PASADENA JAILHOUSE!"  
  
by  
BOBBY FISCHER  
THE WORLD CHESS CHAMPION  
  
  
Copyright (c) 1982 by Bobby Fischer  
All rights reserved  
  
Published by 
BOBBY 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, 
  (firma)
        Robert D. James (professionally known 
        as Robert J. Fischer or Bobby Fischer, 
        The World Chess Champion)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Scusate l'eccessiva lunghezza, ma mi sembrava interessante postarlo;
attendo commenti!
ciao
Igor


http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/Cavern/4343/
ICQ #28073485


Ma allora, scusami, la violazione dei diritti d'autore è stata commessa già
a monte !
Comprendo bene che nonostante ciò, il buon Igor  - certamente in buona
fede - sia incorso in una co-responsabilità, magari "aggravata" dal suo
"peccato d'omissione" (della fonte originaria) ... tuttavia, anche se dal
punto di vista strettamente formale è molto probabilmente come dici tu, e
conoscendo l'assai venale considerazione che Bobby ha sempre avuto per la
questione del copyright, non posso fare a meno di considerare che di fatto
il suo pamphlet, così come l'ormai arcinoto paio di infelici interviste
antisemite da lui rilasciate, costituiscano nell'insieme un tale ammasso di
pura cacca che quasi quasi ... ci sarebbe da felicitarsi nel farsi
denunciare dall'Americano ! :-)
Mah ... talvolta il confine tra il lecito e l'illecito, così come quello tra
sanità e follia è davvero sottile ...
Regards,
Fabio Massimo

a monte !
Leggere l'articolo originale di Tim Krabbe' please.



Leggere per intero le risposte altrui, thanks .
Fabio Massimo