18…..Under Scrutiny

From the first week that I arrived, up until it was time to hand over my case to the Chinese prosecution, Detectives Blue Sky and an associate would come once a week to interrogate me. After the first month, this became less frequent, twice a month on the second month, and once thereafter on the third and fourth month. 

 

The routine was always the same. A hallway guard would open the first locked door, ask for me, and I would then approach the gate, squatting, and place both hands through an opening in the center of the gate, and a guard would handcuff me. I would then be escorted to the end of the hallway which was located beside a check-in desk, behind which was a large wall covered with TV monitors that a guard seated before would be watching, occasionally switching the camera view on various screens. At this main gate, another man, usually the assistant to Detective Blue Sky, would be waiting for me. 

 

Interrogation rooms were located down an adjoining corridor just the other side. Walking by these rooms I saw other prisoners almost always smoking a cigarette while other official types stood nearby them, prodding them with questions. All the rooms were covered in sound proof tiles. Rotating fans were mounted to the walls and the doorways were left open for ventilation.

 

It was within such a room that I would have long discussions with the detectives; Blue Sky seemed contemplative throughout all our sessions together. His assistants rarely if ever engaged me in conversation. Their function seemed to be mainly to transliterate whatever I said into Chinese. Occasionally Blue Sky would confer with them, just to be sure they understood. I had a feeling that more often than not, the assistant’s knowledge of English was that of a middle school student. Detective Blue Sky often asked me to verify some of my testimony before he would look upward toward the ceiling to gather his thoughts, translate what I said into Chinese in his mind the best he could, then speak in Mandarin to his fellow officer on what to write down. Everything was written by hand and near the end of each interrogation, my testimony was given to me to read, just in case there were any errors–and there were always glaring errors, of which Blue Sky would assist in correcting on both the English and the Chinese versions. Any corrections would have to be witnessed by me using my fingerprint on the actual correction. For some odd reason, carbon paper, or duplication paper was never used. For the hand written pages, I assumed copies would be made. For the printed pages, I would sign double copies; one for myself and one for the officers in charge.

 

Near the end of these interrogations, Detective Blue Sky would more often than not ask me specific questions about the USA, or on subjects dealing with of all things, small gyro-copters! He informed me that he was in the process of building one and wanted to know what I knew about shipping something from the USA. I don’t believe I was much help in the matter but I tried my best to give him what little practical advice I knew of. My lasting impression of the detective was that his mind was always elsewhere, perhaps in the very clouds that his English name opitimized, dreaming of flying across the vast countryside of his native lands, something I seriously doubted would be allowed, cosidering how restrictive the whole of China was with its citizens.

 

During all the interrogations, a student would be present to do the actual writing of my testimony. I would sometimes be able to have quick discussions with them, as they would be the ones who would often escort me to the interrogation room. Most of them were either English majors at a local University, or students studying International Law, so they would have to be proficient in English. They were always very polite and interested in my story.

 

The interrogations by the detectives would center on my lack of rememberance of the actual destruction of the ATM. I never detracted from my original statement that I had no memory of actually breaking the machine. I only recalled striking the key pad immediately after I the machine shut down, my card locked up in its metal stomach. The questions would wind around and around that same point–did I recall using a piece of metal to beat the machine? At what point did I become angry and begin to beat the machine? Why did I return a second time and pull on wires that were exposed through the open area where the touch screen had once been? To all these questions I told them, “I don’t have any memory of any destruction applied to the ATM. I only remember beating the keypad and punching buttons with my fingers in frustration when I realized my card and money would not be given to me.” Even though I always maintained that I had no memory of actually breaking the ATM, I did add that I must have done so, since they had photographic evidence of the fact, and that I could pay for the damage as well.

 

All told, I must have sat through at eight interviews with them. When we had our final interview, Blue Sky told me, as he had a few times before that “mine was a simple case” and “it would all be over soon”. One of his cohearts told me in his rather good English that they often had to deal with horrible circumstances such as rape and murder, and that my case was a welcome distraction from the brutality of their work.

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