I ran out the door of the main building and across the small courtyard that led to the outer building. I thought I heard Khalid shouting from behind me, “this way, this way” as I wasn’t sure which door at the outer building actually opened into the room with the door to the street.
There were three doors, one of them led to the section of the building where the Special Forces stayed, ready for any emergency in the prison. I could hear the officer from the reception office yelling “close the door! Close the door!” but I didn’t turn around; I knew I had cleared the way for the others, and they should have no problems following right behind me.
I went through the open door directly opposite the entrance of the main building, assuming it was the right one; it was. The adrenaline was rushing through my blood, and the whole scene seemed like a dream. I was doing everything by sheer instinct at that point. I ran around the big partition set up in the middle of the room . When I came around to the other side, there was an officer a few meters in front of me, seated at a little desk next to the main door. As I ran towards him, he stood, raising his hands and shouting for me to stop. I was running at full speed, and pushed him hard with both hands, knocking him back over his chair; he didn’t get up. I turned to the door, put my hand on the doorknob; it was open. I looked to my right to make sure the rest of the group had taken their positions. All I saw was a wall of police rushing towards me like a huge wave. No one from our group was there.
Most of what happened next is a blur. I remember being tackled, falling back and knocking over the desk; and I remember getting up and fighting and trying to throw people off me. The details were later related to me by prisoners who got the story from the police, and from some guards themselves. I was told, “You were so violent that a lot of the police kept back, because every time someone tried to grab you, you punched him and knocked him out. Whenever you hit someone, he didn’t get up.” I don’t remember that at all. I remember men grabbing my legs and my arms, and someone got behind me and put me in a chokehold. Apparently they struck me in the back of the head with a fire extinguisher, but it had no effect, so they struck me again.
I only remember my legs giving out, and maybe about 6 police pulling and pushing me to the floor, and piling themselves on top of me.
Quickly my hands were cuffed behind my back while they continuously kicked my head and stomped all over my back and legs. After some time, they pulled me up and walked me back to the main building, punching and kicking me the whole way. I remember shouting at them, belittling them, “now you are big? Take these chains off and fight me!” When we got to the door of the main building, the guard was there who I had first knocked to the floor, “go ahead,” I said, and he punched me in the face.
They took me into the visit hall, forced me face-down on the ground and shackled my legs, connecting the handcuffs to the leg shackles behind my back. A group of police was in a far corner of the visit hall beating Khalid. He was the only one from our group who had moved. All the others had frozen.
#دروس_المعتقل
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