Mantus

A dozen police officers entered the office. My friend - a bright, happy and caring man - worked there. The cuffs went on. At that moment began two and a half years of living as an accused criminal. An experience that in my opinion would have broken most ordinary men. Losing friends, people he loved, family, career, and being constantly hounded by detectives who behaved as if there was no doubt that he was guilty of his crimes.

The first and only accusation came from a person who was voluntary committed in a mental asylum and had clear motive to hurt him. It was discovered in the end that here was never any evidence. All the threats, posturing and intimidation were for one purpose: to scare him.

It almost worked...on his lawyer. Thankfully he found a better one who tore apart the case and had it thrown out...two and a half years later.

There is nothing he can do. The police protect each other. The system is skewed in their favor. He has been advised to “let it go”.

A man, a friend, was tortured by the Canadian government.

(*edit* Before anyone else asks I can't go into further detail about this case for the sake of pretesting this individual and myself.)


Guantanamo Bay. Afghanistan. Global Financial Crisis. There are much greater instances of injustice in this world. There are bigger and meaner villains out there than the detectives who came after my friend.

I've built a bullet proof shelter in my mind against all the evils that come through the TeeVee; and I almost managed to suppress this evil as well. It's still only vaguely real. My brain is still trying to force it into the same storage compartment as that story of a 15 year old kid who was shot in Toronto last night. But the facts keep seeping through. Little by little I piece together a new reality because I don't have a paradigm for what happened. I can't seem to put it in a box and forget about it and I don't want to.

I'm pissed off.