State Violence by Raymond Murray Page B

said, ‘Five’. He said, ‘Did they know that you are getting eight and ten years for burning a bus, and there will be a long time for shooting at my troops’. I said I didn’t do it. He said, ‘Take him away; you know what to do with him’.
    They brought me into another room. I was made sit down in the middle of the floor. They put on my shoes and socks. I was blindfolded again. I put them on. I was brought out again. Put into the ‘pig’. I was given a couple of digs in the ribs getting into the ‘pig’. They took me somewhere. I don’t know where. Same thing, ‘What did you do with the gun?’ and all. I said the same thing. Back into the ‘pig’ again. A voice from the front of the saracen said, ‘Take the blindfold off him’.
    I was brought to Girdwood. As soon as I was put into Girdwood, I was brought into the back into a small hut, different cubicles, small, chairs. I was made sit there. I didn’t know what time this was at. I sat in the chair, just looking at wall with holes in it. It was near breakfast time; they were coming in with breakfast for other men lying there. I sat there all day.
    Just after supper time, a uniformed person comes in and took me to another chalet. I was interrogated there by ‘plain clothes’. I took him to be a detective. He said he knew I fired a rifle that day and said I would have to tell him what I did with the rifle. I said I couldn’t tell him anything, that I was in the house all day, the child was sick and the doctor was coming. Two more came in and asked questions. Then another two or three. There were six altogether, I think. They told me to stand up against the wall, fingertips, feet well back. After five minutes my fingers were getting numb, tired. Again, ‘What did you do with the gun?’ I said I didn’t have it. Same again. The tallest stood directly behind me, tall, black blazer, football badge or something on it, wore glasses, greyish sort of hair. He was standing directly behind me chopping my sides with his two hands. There was a young one with a Scotch accent, a beard, gingerish hair, at my left side, one hitting me and then the other. Another one with two hands on my spine was pushing me towards the floor. One detective, about thirty, was sitting on a chair. He was asking where was the gun. I didn’t have to go through all this here. I just gave the same answer, I didn’t have it. He said, ‘Give him a rest for a while’. About five minutes. Standing against the wall.
    They all came round me again and told me to take off my pants. I had a blue jumper on. They took the jumper and shirt off. I was just in vest and underpants and socks. They started the same again, one at the back and front, punching and kicking all the time. One was still punching me from the back. I said I couldn’t help them at all. They put this jumper on me, put it around my head and took me out of the room and marched me next door.
    When I walked in there, there were surgeons there, and like an operating table. They had big green cloaks and masks, round hats. They sat me down on a chair beside the table. On the table was a small bottle of stuff, and two syringes with needles, something like dark blue in the small bottle. There were two syringes. I was sitting on a chair. Somebody came from behind and put on a blindfold. Then I heard somebody saying he was going to give me an injection on the arm. He gave me an injection on the right arm, then he tied something round it, then he did something to my fingers, fiddling about with them. Then he says, ‘Are you going to tell us what you did with the gun?’ Then I repeated the same answer, I never had a gun. Then I felt this feeling in my arm, electric shocks, but two given to start off with, not painful, just uncomfortable. Then every time they asked a question, it only kept increasing, got severer and severer. My mouth dried up. I