Free Welcome to Hell by Colin Martin Page A

strong, but it would be better for me if I confessed.
    I wouldn’t confess to anything, especially not to murder!
    Everybody has heard stories about police brutality and the third degree treatment, but this was torture – pure and simple.
    They then left me alone for a short while. I remember that somebody came in and out of the room at this point. I was still blindfolded but I could hear the door and I could hear them whispering.
    Suddenly, without a word, they grabbed hold of me and held me tightly down in the chair. The next thing I knew, they put a plastic bag over my head and pulled it tight at the back of my neck.
    I began to struggle. I couldn’t breathe! I kept on struggling but it was no use.
    The grip on the plastic bag was released a little, which allowed me to breathe again.
    They asked the same questions.
    ‘Why did you kill your friend? We know you killed him!’
    Again I answered that I didn’t know what they were talking about. I said I hadn’t killed anyone.
    The grip on the plastic bag was pulled tight again, and I struggled to breathe. They knew I was holding my breath as much as I could, so they punched me a couple of times on the side of the face to make sure it was difficult for me.
    I was sure my lungs were going to burst any second.
    Then I blacked out. I don’t know how long I was unconscious for, but they brought me round with a bucket of cold water.
    One of the police team slapped me a couple of times across the face to make sure I was fully conscious again. Then they said, ‘Now we kill you. You make too many problems for us.’
    One of them produced a gun and put it to my head, and slowly began to pull the trigger. I could hear it.
    ‘Say you killed or we kill you! Confess, say you killed!’ came the voice in my ear.
    Struggling was useless now. They had a strong grip on me and I didn’t have enough energy left to fight them.
    ‘Say you killed or we kill you! If you don’t confess you die like your friend!’
    ‘It’s very easy,’ said the Captain. ‘We say you tried to escape, so we shot you. No problem.’
    The gun was shoved into my temple.
    ‘Now we kill you for sure!’
    ‘Say you killed!’
    Again and again I tried to tell them that I hadn’t killed anyone, but they just ignored me.
    If they wanted to kill me there was nothing that I could do to stop them. I didn’t want to die, but I accepted that it was about to happen.
    But I was not going to confess.
    When they realised that I had accepted that I was going to die and I no longer cared what they did, they began to beat me once again.
    One of them grabbed me in a headlock. They placed a plastic bag over my head again, only this time the air was forced out completely, leaving the plastic clinging to my face.
    This time, they’d grabbed me so fast that I had no time to prepare myself or catch my breath. In only seconds I was struggling once more for air. I could feel myself slipping. This time I was going to die.
    * * *
    I had held out, but at that moment in time, if they had promised to free me, I would have admitted to killing John F. Kennedy. Nobody wants to die; the human mind will do anything to keep itself alive. They had tortured me for about five hours, but I felt as if I’d been tortured for days.
    Every man has a breaking point, and I had reached mine. I couldn’t take it any more; I would have done anything for this nightmare to stop.
    They had broken me.
    ‘Okay, okay!’ I screamed. ‘Whatever you want!’
    They never said a word. They just removed the plastic bag and the blindfold.
    I felt an enormous sense of relief, but also dread. I wasn’t sure if they were going to attack me again.
    I was temporarily blinded by the sudden rush of light, but I was soon able to make out what was around me. I couldn’t believe what I saw.
    O’Connor was in the room. He had watched the police torturing me. He was sitting there, smiling at me.
    At that point I wanted to die. I had always believed that I was right to