“Tripper! Tripper! Come quick! Says on the news Glen Jackson just beat a white boy to death with a baseball bat down at brick city!” said my little buddy Bobby while watching channel 5. And sure enough, there stood Glen, a black kid in the same grade as me, cuffed and bloody, being hauled down to the county jail for murder. Years later I ran into Glen at Tucker prison farm. He got 30 years for killing Jerry Frick on the basketball court in the Fort Smith projects known as brick city. Never did care too much for Glen Jackson. Not in school and not in prison. I’d known him since Kimmons and as far back as I can remember he always hated white people. Didn’t surprise me at all when I found out he bashed poor Jerry’s head in with that Louisville Slugger. Nope, not at all. That’s just the kind of thing Glen Jackson and other black kids from the projects were capable of.

On the other hand, Jerry Frick had no business being in brick city in the first place. Nor anywhere near Martin Luther King Park for that matter either. All white kids knew not to go near that part of town. It was the no fun zone for real! I’d learned my lesson about three years before when walking down north “S” one night after missing my ride home from the Arkansas/Oklahoma State Fair. As quickly and quietly as I could, I tried to make my way through brick city with­out bringing any unwanted attention to myself. Even when wearing a hooded jacket, the three black kids shooting hoops on the court that night knew I was a white boy and knew I was out of pocket. “Hey honkey!” I heard the biggest one yell. “What choo doin’ in nigga town boy? Don’t you know crackers ain’t welcome ’round here?” That’s when I broke out in a dead run only to be tackled and beaten to within an inch of my life.

My cousin Harold had once been assaulted in brick city too. Unfortunately, he took a worse ass beatin’ that I did, ending up in the hospital with a con­cussion and several stitches to the cranium. To try and make it between brick city and Earl’s Diamond Inn Lounge was true insanity on the party of any young Fort Smith white boy. Yet, many boys tried. If you were coming from anywhere west of Midland and needed to get to let’s say … Sunnymede or Sutton Estates? You pretty much had to make a beeline through brick city. It was okay if you were in a car or riding a fast motorcycle. You’d just best not be walking. Blacks sat on every doorstep and inside every beat up old Cadillac smoking weed and drinking malt liquor just waiting for a white boy to come walking through their ‘hood. My friend Benny Smith was one of those boys. Only thing different, after he got his ass beat, he got even in the end.

After being jumped near the swimming pool in Martin Luther King Park, Benny went home and got his shotgun, some WWII grenades and three of his roadies. It was Saturday night around the first of the month when all the blacks got their welfare checks and things were hoppin’ at the Diamond Inn - the parking lot filled with Lincolns and Caddys. Curb feelers and leopard skin seat covers were the style of the evening. We, er’a, I mean they, the three boys and Benny, cruised the parking lot incognito doing recon before launching their attack. When the time was right, masked Benny ran to the front door of the club, pulled the pins on two smoke grenades and one tear gas bomb, tossing them inside. Punning full speed back to the van, Benny and his crew watched as dozens upon dozens of black bar patrons came stumbling out coughing and hacking looking for fresh air. Smoke rolled out of the bar, men cursed and women cried.

“Fire a few rounds in the air,” said Mike when pulling out of the lot. “Let’s give these assholes a scare!” Flames shot from the barrel of Benny’s .12 guage Remington blowing the hubcaps off a new El Dorado as they burned rubber down south Greenwood. “Damn it Ronnie! I said ‘in the air’, not in the side of some dude’s new ride!” The next day it was all over the news that the Ku Klux Klan had raided the Diamond Inn in retaliation for the beating of a white boy in the park. Of course it wasn’t the KKK. Just four young north siders tired of taking ass whippings from the black guys in brick city and the surrounding area. A lot more shit went down at brick city over the next couple of years. None of which I had anything to do with of course. Like I said, I got sent to the pen. For unrelated reasons of course. Just sold a little bit of weed to the wrong dude - an undercover Arkansas State Trooper no less. Then again, that’s another story.

Brick city was finally condemned some time in the 80’s. The old red brick buildings stood abandoned for several years afterward and were eventually torn down. Don’t have any idea what might be standing on that piece of land today. MLK Park is still there though. So is the swimming pool where blacks only go to swim. And although I haven’t been around Fort Smith in over 8 long years, I imagine the Diamond Inn probably isn’t there anymore either and the owner, old Earl himself, is probably in the grave. Thinking back … in my mind, I can still see brick city. And, I still remember the night I got my ass kicked coming home bleeding telling my mom I’d been jumped by a bunch of black guys just because I was white. Rest in peace brick city and all those poor souls forced to live there over the years as well as all the white kids who fell prey to the blacks that assaulted them. I don’t think it was so much a skin color as it was how much money they did not have. White or black, there were rough neighborhoods. This just happened to be part of my past, a neighborhood that made an impact in my life. That place and those times will be imbedded in my memory forever. I am Tripper –a former resident of Fort Smith, Arkansas. Better Days!

I once had a celly at FCI Memphis who everyone jokingly referred to as McGuyver. An ex-military nut, Carl Slick was quite a talented dude. His special area of expertise was explosives. As a matter of fact, he was doing time for blowing up his attorney’s office with an IED (improvised explosive device). Bottom line? Piss Carl off and he was blowing your ass up. That’s just the way it was. Ever see the old movie, “The Hills Have Eyes”? Well, Carl reminded me of the bald headed guy in that movie. Weird as fuckin’ hell! When Carl walked across the prison compound, everyone stopped dead in their tracks and stared. Tall and lanky with pale white skin, he looked like some­thing out of a horror flick. Yet his prison uniform was starched and his boots were shined just like they were when he was in the Army. Carl would walk to the shower in full dress uniform and emerge from the shower the same way. Some compared him to a zombie, but truthfully, other than being a bit eccentric, Carl was actually a pretty good dude. He minded his own business and did his own time. He told on no one and he hated cops and rats. Carl was a convict. And over time, we became pretty good friends.

One day Carl came in from the Communications Office where he worked and said “Hey Trip! Check this out.” Standing on the rail in front of our second tier cell, Carl and I watched one of the TV’s on the floor below. Casually pointing down at the Spanish TV where all the Mexicans were watching “Caliente” Carl whispered, “Watch this.” That’s when he tipped his Taster’s Choice coffee mug up to his mouth as if he were taking a drink and pressed a button mounted in the handle. Suddenly the TV station changed to B.E.T. You see, no inmate was allowed to turn the channels on the TV. Only the prison guard could change stations using the remote control kept in the officer’s station. So, when the station suddenly changed, everyone started looking around to see who had the remote. When they realized the cop was no where to be found, one of the guys hunted him down and asked him to put the TV back on UNIVISION. Back in the cell Carl showed me what he’d done.

“I took an old remote control from Communications and mounted the eye in the bottom of my cup. Then, I put the channel changer, on and off button and the volume control in the handle. Now we can change the channels on any of the TV’s any time we want. All we gotta do is be within frequency range.” Examining the cup, it looked like any other commissary bought coffee cup to me. Moving to the bottom floor, we approached the black TV room where 25 or so men were watching the Boston Celtics play the L.A. Lakers. Standing directly out­side the TV room looking through the glass, Carl once again tipped his cup as if to take a drink. And, “blip!” Instead of watching Shaquille O’Neal slam a basket then hang off the rim like a monkey from a tree, all the Memphis blacks were watching “Little House on the Prairie”. Talk about some mad mother fuckers! “Who got da remote?” was all I could hear them say. Laughing to ourselves, Carl and I walked away. “We can’t tell anyone about this Carl,” I said. “Because if we do, someone will snitch and we’ll both go to the hole.” Nodding to one another, we agreed to keep the remote control cup a secret.

Later that weekend Carl was standing in front of the TV room pulling his antics when a West Memphis inmate saw what he’d done. Little Red, as they called him, ran straight to the Lieutenant’s office and told. Ten minutes later the cops came to our cell and took the remote control cup right out of Carl’s hand. Carl went to the hole but was released the next day. “I gotta get even with that rat bastard Trip. I know Red was the one that told on me. The officer who walked me to SHU told me so.” “Yeah Carl,” I replied. “I know it was him too. Because after you went to lockup, I watched Red as he stood around with all his gangbanger friends laughing and saying shit like, ‘Cracker won’t be changin’ da TV any mo’!’ I knew that little fucker was a snitch anyway.” For the rest of the weekend, Carl stood on the rail in front of our cell deciding what to do. Not once did he look Red’s way letting him know he knew. Finally he’d made up his mind. “I got him Trip. I got his funky rat ass! Just watch and see what I do!”

The first thing Carl did was sneak into Red’s cell while everyone went to the chow hall for fried bird. From his pocket he took a bag full of Corning brand fiberglass insulation he’d also stolen from the Communications building and rubbed it in every pair of government issue underwear Red owned. That night after taking his shower, we watched and laughed as Red kept scratching his balls. Pretty soon Red got up to take another shower. And of course, it didn’t do a bit of good. Taking his clothes to the laundry room Red started doing a load of wash. From the top tier, Carl watched to see which dryer Red was about to use. Soon as Red put his clothes in the dryer and left the room, Carl walked down to the laundry asking me to watch for the law. Carl took a black magic marker from his pocket, took off the lid and pulled out the wick. Then, he threw the wick in the dryer with all of Red’s clothes. By the time Red came back to retrieve his clothes, everything he owned had black marks on them including his store bought sweats and the dew-rag he wore on his nappy ass head. Yeah, fuck Carl over and he’s going to get even. That’s just the way it was.

The next day Red looked at the call-out sheet and saw he had an appointment at Psych. What on earth could they want he wondered to himself knowing he wasn’t a nutcase at all. Apparently, someone had submitted a request to staff member form in Red’s name saying he felt suicidal and was thinking about taking his own life. Moments after entering Psychology, Red was escorted to SHU in cuffs and put in a rubber room wearing a straight jacket and dress. It probably didn’t help matters that his clothes were all striped like a Zebra and he constantly kept scratching his balls. So you see everyone, karma can truly be a mother fucker. Even to someone doing time in the pen. Never underestimate the craft­iness of a convict nor a person vowing to get revenge. Once off of suicide watch, Red got tortured some more. Carl stuffed a summer sausage in the finger of a rubber glove, put it and a bottle of lotion under Red’s pillow, then left a note to one of Red’s friends saying Red was a fag. He liked to have never heard the last of that one. Vengeance be mine sayeth the Carl! Vengeance be mine! I’m Trip. Better Days!

Edward Pryatt

MACHIAVELLIAN TORTURE THE MACHINE KILL OF EDWARD PYEATT

1. I AM EDWARD PYEATT, A federal prisoner here at FCI Florence, 1/27/2004, serving a 20 year sentence for gun and drugs. I am the father of 7 children and 4 grandchildren. I’ve filed a habeas corpus 28 USC 2241 with civil and criminal rights violations, in federal court of New MEXICO case no. 03-475, asking for my federal and state charges to be over turned, for the malicious prosecutions, after the fact of Torture Conspiracy 18 USC 2340A, by the city, county, state, and federal courts. The judges, courts, district attorneys had knowledge of and were party to the contenuuous torture.

2. The U.S. Marshals, with intent, did injure me in federal courts, planes, and vans during transport, from 1996 thur 2001, I have filed common law Rico 18 USC 1964c in all action against the U.S. Marshals, U.S. Attorneys, judges, Bureau of Prisons, and Parole Commission.

3. Tne state charges were trumpted up and did accompany false arrest, false imprisonment, tainted warrant and the kidnapping of my infant children, by of­ficers of the court and the state police.

4. There was no due process when I was tortured by the, then state judges W.P. Johnson and Alvin Jones. Johnson is now a federal judge.

5. My state attorney Jesse Cosby interrogated me in a restraining chair in front of jail staff and attempted murder at that time.

6. On 4th of March 1996, I was placed in the hole and taken to the hospital twice in 4 days, before the chair incident, for my heart and mental condition. The hospital wanted $16,000.00 for admission. Sheriff Tucker denied my access to medical care, yet contacted my parrents and tried to Extort the $15,000.00 for the admission. My parrents told them hes in your custody, you should be responsible for Eddie’s care.

7. On the 7th of March, 1996, after the interrogation chair, my attorney Jesse Cosby, Judge Johnson, Judge Jones, and jail administrator Mike Galleger left me shackled in the Hole, without food, watter, sink, or toilet, till the 15th of March, MACHINE KILL !

8. Two incidents of excessive force, without my resistence is documented on the 7th and 8th by 8 staff members, also.

9. Mike Galleger and 4 guards beat me down the morning of the 15th, then spit on my face in the transport van.

10. My tongue was protruding, I was crippled,without shoes, ankles swollen, eye-nose-and lip were cut and marks were up under my arm where Mikes nurse had stabbed and injected me, after she had given me two lethal injections of drugs in the restraining chair before Cosby interrogated me.

11. ALL this I have evidented in doctors reports upon admittance to the for­ensic unit at Los Vegas, MM.

12. Psychologists carried me in to the unit because the 2 transport guards had tried to drag me in. I smelled of escrement after the 7 days in the Hole without a shower and my tongue was swollen and protruded because I had only drank from my tears the last 2 days, yet my eye pockets had dried out and I could not cry when they ran my face into the metal serving tray Mike had placed against the door jam, when the 4 guards rammed my face into it, the day of trans­port. Tnen I did remember licking the spit off my face like the animal they had turned me into. Who knows, they might have saved my life, with that spit, before the 300 mile trip, God only knows.

13. The nurse had attempted to kill me 3 times and the guards tried to break my neck in that chair. No worry my lawyer Cosby was there and JUDGES Johnson and Jones took 11 days to transfer me.

14. Federal Advocate Miguel Chavez sent Cosby a letter to keep me in Los Vegas after 90 days but Cosby, Johnson, and Jones had me returned to Roswell to malici­ously prosecute, after they had Tortured me. Cosby filed 2 motions in Johnson court, against retaliation by Mike and his staff, after I was threatened, but only after Miguel Chavez checked on my welfare, after I was returned to Chaves County jail. I quickly became unstable after returning and a male nurse stabbed me in my right eardrum while cleaning it with a syrenge. He then laughed about it. I’m about deaf in that ear, I can’t hear the chime in my watch.

15. Mike had one of his sergeants try to doctor up my cell servailance minutes which turned out outrageous, when the advocate ordered it to the forensic unit, then turned it over to me, which I have since placed in a court of law.

16. Federal Judge Conway and AUSA Kelly Burnham was in Roswell for another con­spiracy case no. 96-220, so they had knowledge of my torture and conspired with Johnson, Jones and Cosby, to indict, me in my case no. 96-228-cr. My case involved 1 pound of Meth at the Roswell airport and FBI testified they had custody of Meth before I could have known about it.

17. Judge Conway and Burnham indicted me on a trumpted up charge because I would have walked on the other conspiracy and state charges had my federal attorney -friend of Conway’s, had a licensc’to practice law at my trial and sentencing in the state of New Mexico. I found out by the Supreme Court Of New Mexico Disciplin­ary Councel in 2000, that Gary Hill was not licensed in New Mexico. He had promosed to take the 5 state charges and the 96-228-cr. He, Hill lied to my sister, extorted $15,000.00 from her and never entered the state cases and failed to defend me in Conway’s court, And did not object to the malicious prosecution.

18. The one state charge I went to trial on, started with tainted arrest warrant, my innocence was evident when Johnson allowed a unqualified lab tech to testify and the evidence was lost for 6 months and the quanity was changed when they found it. The chain of command was violated yet ignored by Johnson.

19. Tom Udal attorney general had knowledge of my torture, yet was lied to by the state police at Appeal and NM Supreme Court level.

20. Senator Bingamen ordered Udal to look into my torture, he just contacted the state police who were party to the crime in the first place. My mother had sent the senator and Clinton a letter, about my torture.

21. Morning of Conway’s trial, the Donna Anna county jailers gave me someone else’s medication, confirmed by Conway’s assistant after I had seizures, they then marched out the jury.

22. I had 3 letters from my doctor in las Cruces, on file, ordering me back to Los Vegas, days before my trial, for my mental illness.

23. In the trial the U.S. Marshals jumped on me and told me to be still, Mr. Hill said lay your head down and we can get this over with, the friend of the court. No medical attention was given that day. The next day the U.S. Marshals hauled me back to their courthouse for observation where I suffered. Then I was placed in a medical cell for 2 weeks at Donna Anna jail without concern of proper medical care. The Doctor down town said all she could do was order me to Los Vegas for psychiatric care. Conway, Burnham,and Hill did not care, they transfered me to Torrence County jail, where the psychiatrist there stated I was mentally ill before my sentence in Conway’s court, re: sentence transcript 96-cr-228.

24. At Conway’s sentencing back in Las Cruces CCA officers from the Torrence County jail pulled me out of the van onto my head, she said I was to heavy for her and I had not taken my medication that morning, so I had no equal-librium while shackled. They carried me arm in arm up the flights of stairs to the courtroom. In my sentencing transcripts, Conway, Burnham,and Hill were in con­flict of my mental statist Hill told Conway it was the same as at the trial as Conway remembered and Hill said my physical condition was not in question, even after my head injury that day. Hill said, Psy. Landou had stated I had mental problems at the Torrence jail, I questioned those proceedings and my trial, when Conway asked me . I stated, I was not guilty of anything. Conway said my incom­petence was an issue for Hill on appeal. Conway said he would get me help in the Federal Hospital in Springfield, Mo., That never happened for 2 years. The CCA and Marshals gave me no medical attention that day and drove me back to Torrence 300 miles away, incident reports in petition no. 03-475 NM.

25. In the next conspiracy 411-cr-1996 federal judge Bruce Black. I never saw any evidence just Burnham stating she had 2 girls who would testify they bought drugs from me before they met the Kingpin. Black said if I was found guilty of guns and drugs in Conway’s trial I should confess. Burnham and ray lawyer Adam Kurtz- Conway’s intern, said they would give me life if I did not take their deal of 20 years. The Kingpin only got 20 years.

26. This sentencing took place after 7 months of hearings, while I was held un­der psychitrist observation in a medical cell while I was heavily sedated.

27. The CCA and Marshals pulled me out of vans in front of my codefendants several times, with injuries, while sedated and shackled. I couldn’t even walk straight to most hearings. The doctors at Torrence County jail provided me no medical care, they said I was the psychitrists problem.

28. Defence counsel Adam Kurtz lied to my family and me to extract information, he said he wanted the information to organize a law suit in my case against Roswell, ” INTERN “.

29. During the 1\ years in New Mexico county jails and upon axxxval- at U.S.P. Beaumout, Texas, I was on thorizine, elevil and desoxin-pharmasutical Meth, The mixture has been known to kill people.

30.When I was transported to USP Beaumont and unloaded at the Houston airport, a BOP employee jerked my shackles up to high at the base of the plane. I vent down hard bouncing my head and shoulder off the tar mat. A U.S. Marshal nurse administered first aid on the bus, she cleaned up my bloody head and patched up my elbow till I could get medical care at the USP. Upon arrival at USP Beaumont the nurse refused to see me and I was locked down in the Hole, this was Friday and I disn’t get medical attention till Monday. My counselor who helped me with a tort claim said I could of got a blood clot or concussion.

31. I was mentally unstable from day of arrival at USP Beaumont March 12,1998 till May 19,1999 on various psychotropic medication, then was medically transfered to federal hospital Springfield, Missouri, to be stableized.

32. 90 days of forced medication- medical battery- due to excessive meds, facial and dental mutilations and electrical shocks- which blew me off the bed, was a liv­ing Hell.

33. My family had heard in Roswell that I had been murdered in Springfield, yet I lived once again. The doctors and psychologists were labled Sir. Frankenstiens

in my law work. My second and currant wife did not recognize photos of me. My mother and sisters had visited me at USP Bt. before my transfer to Springfield so I have before and after photos. The BOP psychologists depts., dental and other doctors have conspired to cover up my torture and injuries in custody, Dental X Rays, records and Photos don’t lie.

34. With the theat of being locked down, retaliated against, and forced med­icated, I quit all meds upon returning to USP Bt. The psychiatrist wanted to keep me incommunicado.

35. Since, I’ve established numerous torts and court actions only to be shot for lack of funds or any other technicallity court clerks can dream up. I have established my life is and has been in imminent Danger for the last 7 years pur­suant to 28 USC 1915g.

35. My employment injuries in custody at USP Beaumont and FCI Florence, have left my back with a pinched nerve and crooked spine and with my left shoulder 2 inches lower than my right shoulder.

37. At USP Bt. I threw 3 bags, weighing 200 lbs. total, over my shoulder which left me with a pinched nerve and on ibruprophen for pain.

38. Upon arrival here at FCI Florence, I was not cleared to work, because of my back injury yet was ordered to work by my Unit Manager. After a few weeks I was ordered to carry a 400 lb. generator up a flight of stairs by boss Robinson, as 100 inmates watched on. Then was ordered once again to do the same by Robinson with 2-4s under the ends of the next generator. This broke down my left side. It hurt that day and I could not get out of my bunk the next day. A nurse assistant saw me and gave me a layin for 20 days without seeing a doctor, my boss contenued the layin another 20 days. During the following 6 months without seeing a doctor the nurses ass. Cordova thought he was a ciripractor yet injured my back further, Thats what contenued his layin when he saw he hurt me.

39. Then I filed for lost wages for my bosses ordered bed rest. Safety and med­ical and assistant warden ordered me back to work. I appealed in Washington,D.C., for the 20 dollars, then this staff said it never happened. 100 witnesses and 40 days of bed rest later ! I’m now 2 years later consuming 2400 miligrams of ibru­prophen and 1200 milgs. of tylenal a day for pain, suffering and swelling.

40. The Medical Administrator Christopher Lamb and doctors denied me tracktion, back brace, medical shoes and a ct scan, I had requested, which in turn left me with a crooked spine.

41. I can not take appropreate medication to relieve all pain and suffering because I have to consentrate on my law work. The torture in Springfield left

me without coordination, mototk skills, yet I now type with one letter at a time.

42. The dentist said I could and need corrective surjury on my teeth yet the BOP will not do it, although they are the injuring party. My nerve damange and headaches are uncontrolable without proper meds because these injuries in custody are extreme.

43. Last year I filed a class action law suit on behalf of my family for in­juries bt federal attorney Gary Hill” his extortion” and my injuries with 100 defendants named, NM cv-020661. W.P. Johnson had just made the federal bench-he motioned to dismiss. I moved for recusal on grounds Johnson was party to the action, both civil and criminal against me. He got off the case fast. Then judge Hanson entered yet judge Black denied my motions. Because of filing fees the Tenth Circuit will not hear my civil action, yet I filed the initial filing fee as ordered and provided proof my Life is in Danger in custody pursuant to 28 USC 1915g, and should proceed free of fees by law.

44. My state attorney Jesse Cosby scared my elderly parents into selling their 5 renthouses and property after I was locked up. Cosby said the feds were after the land which was a lie. They only got $16,000.00 for all, yet the tax value was $65,000.00. Our houses - Pyeattville, was on a city masterplan for the new civic center and the city knew they had to get rid of me or pay worth value. Cosby conspired with city officials to convict, torture me then steal my par­ents land in the process.

45.The Sheriff Terral Tucker stole a 35 ft. gooseneck trailer off my dads land in the country. Magistrate Judge Corn allowed a bale bondsman Amador to sell my title to his friend without my dads consent after my dad had paid to get my titles-r . r

back minutes before. The title to the trailer had nothing to do with my bond, it was just in the folder. Judge Corn said I had to file a tort and would not let my mother bring action against such evil deeds.

46. The Bureau of Prisons have denied me access to courts by stealing my U.S. Mail which is documented by federal tort claims in courts of law in Texas, New Mexico, Colorado and Washington, D.C. and a statement to the FBI while I was in USP Beaumont. The courts and U.S. Attorneys fail to entertain this U.S. Mail theft and fraud and is party to these Misprison of Felonies, see, 18 USC 4.

47. The BOP and their legal depts. will not allow me access to the U.S. ATT. General, Inspector General, The FBI now, The Solicitor General or U.S. Senators.

48. The U.S. General Accounting Office gave me a Control Number 43787 after they varified the BOP stole 2 packages I mailed them. They turned it over to their Fraud Net.

49. My actual innocence is well evidented and documented with declarations supporting all facts I’ve provided.

1. Judge W.P. Johnson and state attorney Jesse Cosby prosecuted me after person­ally tortureing me in the Chaves County Jail, with a 6 year sentence.

2. I lost a federal trial- I was hot a party to the crime in any way and Judge Conway and AUSA Kelly Burnham had knowledge of my torture in Roswell and conspired to maliciously prosecute with W.P. Johnson. My attorney was a friend of the court and was not licensed in the state of NM for trial or sentencing, 17% year sentence.

3. I plead to the second conspiracy because of threat of a Life sentence. It was double jeopardy in Bruce Black’s courtroom, he said I was guilty of gun and drugs because of Conway’s trial verdict. Adam Kurtz the defence counsel was Conway’s

” INTURN”. I have proven my innocence by ”MACHIAKILLIAN TORTURE”.