RASHID NEZHMETDINOV

Lev Polugaevsky vs Rashid Nezhmetdinov 1958 - Nezhmetdinov's Immortal

Magnus Carlsen's amazing double bishop sacrifice Mikhail Tal like chess ...

I WAS TORTURED IN THE PASADENA JAILHOUSE!

"I WAS TORTURED IN

THE PASADENA JAILHOUSE!"

by

BOBBY FISCHER

THE WORLD CHESS CHAMPION

Copyright (c) 1982 by Bobby Fischer

All rights reserved

Published by

BOBBY FISCHER

Bank Robbery...

About 2:00 p.m. Tuesday afternoon, May 26, 1981, as I was peacefully and lawfully

walking towards Lake Street in Pasadena across from the Kaiser Permanente medical

offices, a policeman in a car suddenly pulled up alongside the curb and said he

wanted to talk to me because I fitted perfectly the description of a man who had just

committed a bank robbery. I politely told him he had the wrong man and I hadn't

committed any bank robbery, and that I didn't know anything about it whatsoever.

The policeman then proceeded to ask me a number of questions regarding my

name, residence, age, etc. I answered all of these questions politely and truthfully. He

then began to repeat the questions over and over again. I answered them over and

over again. He asked for my identification and I showed it to him. He asked how long

I'd lived in the area, and where I was from originally. I told him. He asked what I did

for a living and I told him.

Suddenly a second police car pulled alongside and I was soon surrounded by at

least three or four policemen. On at least three or more separate occasions I was

asked where I lived, and I told them I didn't have the exact street address but since it

was only a block or two away I would show them where it was. They showed no

interest whatsoever in this reasonable suggestion. The policeman who had just

arrived in the second car began to repeat the same questions that the policeman in the

first car had asked. I told him I'd already answered those questions. I was asked for

my driver's license and I told them I didn't drive.

The policemen became extremely hostile and threatening in their manner. They

began to say among themselves, "He's probably wanted out of state." - "You think we

should arrest him?" - "Yeah, I think so, let's take him down to headquarters," etc.

Serious...

At one point early in the questioning by the first officer before the second car had

arrived I was told, "This is serious." This simple statement spilled the beans on the

entire police operation and clearly revealed it to be the filthy stinking set up it was. If

the officer really believed I had just robbed a bank, the officer would know that I

damn well knew it was "serious" and he wouldn't make such a stupid statement.

Arrested...

As I stated earlier, the officers began to repeat the same questions over and over

again, interspersing comments among themselves that they'd have to take me to the

station. I said, "I don't know anything about this bank robbery and I've already

answered your questions and I don't have to give you any further answers to the same

questions." I said, "I have the right to remain silent after giving you basic information

about myself." The officer, said, "Well, you're thinking of New York state. The laws

are different out here."

The questions and threats to arrest me continued. I said, "I'm not answering any

more questions. lf you want to arrest me, arrest me - that's it." The one officer from

the second car who was obviously the leader of the pack said, "Arrest him!"

Brutally Handcuffed...

I was immediately handcuffed in a brutal fashion, the police pushing my hands way,

way up behind my back and causing me considerable discomfort and pain. Later I

saw that the metal had torn into the flesh of both my wrists. I was put into a police car

but was unable to move in far enough for them to close the door because there is

some kind of a hump in the middle of the back seat. After several attempts to shut the

door by brutally pushing my right leg with his right leg, the officer finally succeeded

in closing the door by pushing my leg in with the door itself. Later I saw that my right

knee had turned black and blue.

False Arrest...

At one point as they were leading me into the car after they had arrested me, I saw the

officer that had first approached me continue the bank robbery charade. He showed

the leader of the pack officer what appeared to be a photocopy of an artist's rendition

of the supposed bank robbery suspect. I also saw the picture. With the exception of

the fact that we both wore beards, the picture did not look in the least bit like me. The

man in the picture wore glasses, his face was completely different from mine, the hair

on his head was different, etc., etc.

It was absolutely impossible to mistake me for him. And if after honestly (which

was definitely not the case here) mistaking me for the man in the picture, it could not

possibly take more than a few seconds at most by comparing the picture with my face

to realize the mistake.

But obviously the bank robbery bit was just a lying transparent pretext for

approaching and arresting me. The officers never had the slightest question in their

minds that I might be the so-called "bank robber." The officer who showed him the

picture said, "It looks just like him, doesn't it?" The leader of the pack officer said,

"Naw, that's not him."

On the way to the police station an announcement came over the police car radio

on the police band. One officer said, "That's it - they just caught the bank robber!"

Insulted...

On the way to the station, I was insulted several times, called an asshole, etc. At some

point (perhaps it was already at the jailhouse) the police said, if I wasn't such an

asshole they wouldn't have arrested me. After we got to the police station and I got

out of the car, I said, "Well, you've got the bank robber. What do you want with me

now? He said, "We just want to talk to you inside." I said, "About what?" Answer -

"Let's just talk inside." Inside they began repeating the same questions again. I was

seated and still had my hands handcuffed behind my back. When I refused to give

them any more information I was physically attacked.

Choked...

The leader of the pack officer said, "We want to find out what this is all about!"

Without any provocation of any kind on my part, he grabbed my throat with one hand

and started choking me by the neck, pushing me backward in the chair (throughout all

this "interrogation," savagery and physical assault, I was seated and with my hands

handcuffed behind my back) and putting his face close up to mine grimaced and

shouted, "Talk!"

As he was choking me a woman who apparently worked there walked by. She

quickly turned her head to the left to look in the room to see what the commotion was

all about. When she saw that I was being choked by the neck she quickly turned her

head away and continued walking down the hallway. She obviously didn't want to see

something she shouldn't see and get involved on my behalf to save my life - it could

cost her her job, you know. The crazed officer who was choking me realized he'd

been a little careless and with his hand still on my neck choking me he told another

cop to close the door. The choking episode continued for perhaps about a total of 10

or 20 seconds. When the crazed officer saw that I refused to talk or cringe and whine

and beg for mercy, he released my throat and jumped back with a fearful look in his

face like he'd just seen a ghost.

I said, "I don't believe this - being choked by the neck with my hands handcuffed

behind my back by a policeman at the station to get me to talk. I thought this was

only in the comic books!" A couple of the officers chuckled at my naiveté. The leader

of the pack crazed officer snapped, "Book him!" and took off.

Assailant Description...

I think just for the record it is appropriate to physically describe the officer who

choked me since I don't know his name. He's, I'd say, in his late thirties or early

forties, with kind of two-toned hair that stands up kind of prickly or goes straight

back. One part of the hair in front seems brown and the other blond or gray. He's thin

and lanky and fairly tall. He's hyperaggressive, like a littie dog who barks and snaps a

lot and bares his teeth. He is also quite vicious.

I believe this should be more than sufficient to pin down the name and identity of

this officer. I described him thusly to someone who is familiar with the Pasadena

police and he immediately knew who I was talking about although he didn't recall the

name offhand. I'm sure I could easily recognize him if I saw him again. For example I

could easily pick him out of a police lineup.

Stark Naked...

After this I was taken upstairs to the jail part of the police department. One of the

officers who arrested me said to the man behind the desk, "We've got him on the

identity" or "We've got him on the identity thing." When I told the man at the desk

there who wanted me to answer questions that I had just been choked by the neck

downstairs, he sarcastically sniggered, "Aw, they wouldn't do that, uh, uh, they're

good men. I know them, they'd never do that," and he sneered. When I refused to

answer any more questions and after they had taken all my personal belongings, I was

led to a cell and they forced me to strip completely naked and leave all my clothes

outside the cell. When I stripped down to my jockey mesh shorts, I said, "This too?"

referring to my underpants, and the jailer nodded and said, "Yes." I took my

underpants off and gave it to him also.

No Phone Call...

I was refused the right to make a phone call.

After the desk officer joker locked the door of the cell he snickered, "The phone's

on the wall." Of course, there was no phone there.

Horror Cell...

The cell had no sheets, no bed, no mattress, no covers - absolutely nothing except a

few thin pieces of toilet paper. I was forced to lie stark naked on a painted metal bunk

with little round holes in it everywhere. After a very short period of time, of course,

this became unbearable and excruciatingly uncomfortable and painful. To add to my

discomfort the light was turned on in the cell. I was kept locked up in that cell until

some time Wednesday morning, May 27, when I was transferred to another cell that

made my first cell seem like a picnic.

Isolation & Torture...

This cell was a kind of isolation cell. Way in the far corner overlooking the street, it

had two windows on different walls of the room, both windows being open. The cell

door was completely solid with no opening except a one-way peep hole for the jailers

to look in. The room was extremely drafty and cold and dank.

Of course, my suffering in this room was completely horrendous and unbearable,

being still stripped stark naked as I was. My body and flesh are still in pain and agony

from this gruesome and cruel experience as I write these lines about 8 or 10 days

later. I was left in there to freeze to death or die from exposure.

I shouted to numerous passersby in the street to call a certain telephone number

and to tell them that I was being tortured to death in the Pasadena police station,

which was absolutely the truth.

In addition to all of the pain and torment I felt from the cold, the draftiness, and

lack of clothes, at about noontime the room became extremely noisy from the street

traffic. By any standards, the decibel level was such as could easily cause permanent

hearing damage. Also, at intervals, trains would rumble by at extremely loud noise

levels. And of course being imprisoned in the room above city traffic, the smog level

was even worse than normal.

I was left for many hours on end isolated in this room without anyone coming to

the door or into the room to talk to me.

I had once read a book on brainwashing and it told how in North Korea, captured

American G.I.'s during the Korean war were placed in rooms and forced to sleep on

freezing blocks of ice. But I simply could not believe that here in the "civilized" U.S.,

a somewhat modified and slower (though equally deadly) treatment was being

applied by American citizens to another American citizen. And all this without a trial,

without any accusations being made against me, etc. My crime was simply that I had

nothing more to say to these gangster police officers of Pasadena!!! Incredible, but

true.

After I had been tortured in this room for some time, some jailers came in and told

me that if I'd talk to them and give them more information, they'd give me my clothes

back, and that I was being punished for my "attitude." They said they couldn't take

me down to the court to see the judge until the arrest form had been all filled out.

They said the judge wouldn't even see me until then. I reminded them that I'd been

choked by the neck and that I had nothing more to say to them, and that I'd do my

talking to the judge.

Mental Hospital...

They told me that they might have to send me to a mental institution for observation.

They asked me what year it was, what month it was, etc. I easily answered these

stupid questions.

I told them again and again I wanted to make a phone call. I was refused. I was

told, "You're not going to make a phone call or see the judge until we get the

information we want." Numerous times I was bargained with, that they'd give me my

clothes back if I'd give them the information they wanted.

Starving & Freezing...

I was denied food for some 24 hours or so straight. I told them they were starving and

freezing me to death. They said, "Die! We hope you do. You can die for all I care,"

etc.

Inside Mattress...

In order to save my life and to try to get out of the cold and draft, I crawled inside the

linoleum covered plastic mattress. A jailer looked in through the peep hole and asked

me what I was doing inside the mattress. I told him I was trying to get out of the cold.

He said I had destroyed prison property by doing so. So I said, "What do you want

me to do - quietly freeze to death to make you happy?" He said, "Yes, I hope you do

freeze to death, I don't care." I was told, "That's another charge against you -

destroying prison property." He told me to get out of the mattress. I said, "Give me

my clothes and I will." He left.

Incidentally, I didn't destroy the mattress or any other prison property. The mattress

had already been opened by somebody else before me. Much later, just before my

release from that hell hole - the Pasadena jailhouse - I was transferred to another cell

(for many prisoners) and saw several more of these particular mattresses they have up

there. They were all in good condition and sewed up. I looked them over and estimate

that it would be extremely difficult - virtually impossible - to open them up without a

knife or sharp cutting object of some kind. I suppose they are made that way

deliberately. And, of course, I had no knife or any other object of any kind in my

isolation cell.

The charge that I destroyed the mattress is totally laughable because the mattress

was my only chance to even partially try to get out of the cold, dankness and

draftiness. It would have made absolutely no sense whatever for me to destroy it.

However, I would add that in order to save my life from the freezing cold I would

have been fully justified in destroying one or even a thousand of those mattresses, or

even destroying the entirety of the prison. If one is allowed to kill in self defense,

how much more should he be allowed to destroy a cheap prison mattress to save his

life. Although I reiterate I did not destroy said mattress or anything else in the

jailhouse.

On numerous occasions I was threatened with being sent to a mental hospital for

observation. I was told if I didn't stop screaming they were going to come into the

cell and stuff a towel or rag in my mouth to shut me up. I told the jailer if he did I

would smash his blankety-blank head off. I also added that I hadn't eaten all day.

T.V. Dinner...

The next thing I knew I was brought my first food for over 24 hours, which shows

you never know what to expect next in a madhouse. It consisted of two T.V. dinners

and a littie bit of a soft drink. I ate one T.V. dinner and decided to save the other one

for later since the "room service" was so irregular. A while later, however, I was

transferred back to the cell they'd put me in originally when I first came to the

jailhouse. I asked the jailer to let me take the other T.V. dinner with me but he refused

permission.

No Water...

The cell they returned me to now had no running water. They claimed they just

couldn't understand it; "the water and plumbing had worked just fine in there before,"

- chuckle, chuckle. After I was returned to this cell for what seemed like a very long

time - some ten hours or so or perhaps more - I became very, very thirsty, having had

only a small amount of water to drink since my arrival. (Of course, how could I know

they would later deny me even this basic necessity?)

Sick Cop...

I told them I was hungry and especially thirsty, and that there was no running water in

my cell. Just to make doubly sure I didn't get any water to drink, the toilet was full of

urine. They either laughed, made snide remarks, ignored me, or told me I was being

"punished" for my attitude. Finally, after countless repeated requests for water, a big,

tall blond or red-headed cop came over to my cell window and smiled in and said,

"Here, I've got some water for you." Something about his "friendly" laughing attitude

made me suspicious, and I said, "Open the door and bring it in - I can't take it through

the steel mesh opening. It's too small, how can I get it?"

He answered, "You ever hear of a straw? Come here, I'll give it to you through a

straw." I half suspected something was up and as I got up out of the bunk I found I

was right - he threw the water all over my back and on the metal bunk and on the

small pieces of toilet paper I had placed on the metal bunk to make it ever so slightly

softer. The big cop walked away laughing hysterically. He was saying to his jailer

officer buddies, "Did you see that? Ha, ha, ha!" I said, "You're really sick, only a sick

person would do that." He said, "I know it, ha, ha, ha, that's why they hired me, ha,

ha, ha, ha!" This is typical of the kind of sicko's and whacko's who run the Pasadena

jailhouse and work for the Pasadena police force.

Police Indecency...

I should also add that in the jailhouse there are lady jailers and female prisoners. The

female jailers were constantly walking past my cell and could see right into it and see

me stark naked. The same for women prisoners. I remember at least one colored

young lady prisoner being led past my cell. Where is the decorum and decency in all

this? Also, I was twice forced to walk stark naked down the hallway of the jailhouse

when I was transferred to different cells, in plain view of all.

Threats...

Later I was threatened again with being sent to a mental hospital for 30 days

observation, then I'd be sent back here, and he said something about Norwalk, or

Norfolk. Numerous times I told them I thought I had the constitutional right under the

fifth amendment to remain silent. They replied, "No, not until you give us the

information we want." I said, "You mean you're just going to keep me here forever,

incommunicado until I talk?" "That's right," was the answer. "Here, or we'll send you

to a mental hospital. You're obviously a very sick person."

Finally some time on Thursday morning, May 28th, I received my breakfast, which

consisted of a few tablespoons of milk, a small carton of sugar coated cornflakes, and

a canned peach slice. This was the first liquid I had had in a very long time.

Same Questions & Answers...

A man who said he was the chief jailer there, an older white-haired cop, told me that

the reason my clothes were taken away from me was that I might use them to commit

suicide since I was obviously crazy. I said, "Well, have somebody watch me then."

Answer - silence. Then he promised to send me to the judge that morning if I'd

answer just five questions. I asked him to tell me the five questions (it turned out to

be six) in advance and I'd consider it.

The six questions were:

#1. Your name

#2. Your place of birth

#3. Your date of birth

#4. Your address

#5. Your height

#6. Your weight

I answered the questions and some time later was given my clothes back. I got

dressed and was transferred to a big cell with several other prisoners.

Police Crimes...

The police now for the first time answered my questions about what the charges

were. They told me the charges against me were interferring with the duties of an

officer. (I joked to some of the other prisoners that I was being charged with

"interferring with the crimes of an officer.")

I was also told that I had a second charge against me now I was brought into the

jail, i.e., destruction of prison property, namely a prison mattress. The old whitehaired

chief told me the mattress cost $80.00 new. "You're going to be charged with

destruction of prison property for getting in that mattress." They also told me that bail

was set at $ 500.00 on each count, for a grand total of $ 1,000.00 (one thousand

dollars) cash.

I told the head jailer that now I wanted to see the judge as be'd promised. He broke

his word and said that there'd now developed some problem and that I wouldn't be

able to see the judge today, that I'd have to wait until tomorrow for that.

Phone Call...

I was allowed to make phone calls from the public pay phone in this new cell. I called

someone and told them the situation, that I'd been arrested, choked by the neck, and

held in the Pasadena jailhouse incommunicado and stark naked for the past 48 hours

or so, etc. The person was shocked but relieved to hear from me since naturally the

person had been very worried about my disappearance.

Fingerprints...

After the person came down to the jailhouse and put up the bail money, I was taken to

a special room for a mug shot and to be fingerprinted. I asked the head jailer what if I

refused to be fingerprinted, what would he do? He said they'd break every bone in my

hands if they had to to get those fingerprints.

Signed Unread...

After the mug shot and the fingerprinting, thumb printing, hand printing, palm

printing, etc., I was told to sign numerous documents, perhaps as many as 10 or more.

I told the chief jailer that I like to read documents before I sign them. He insisted that

I just sign them.

I reiterated my previous statement and started to read them. He demanded that I

sign the documents at once without giving me time to even partially glance at them.

He covered the document with his hand and arm and said, "All that concerns you is

this here part at the bottom of the page," indicating what looked like a kind of stamp

or form letter part of certain words which I did not have time to read either.

Having had little or no sleep for over two days and suffering from exhaustion, and

knowing that a document signed under physical duress has no validity in law, and

being in a hurry to get out of that damn hell hole, I signed the documents without

reading them. I was not allowed to read them.

For all I know I signed a confession that I killed 20 Pasadena police officers and

that I destroyed all the mattresses in the entire jailhouse and then tore the jailhouse

down with my bare hands.

No Written Charges...

The charges made against me until now, two weeks later, are still all verbal. I have

received no written accusation of any charges against me whatsoever. All they gave

was two receipts for $500.00 bail on each one. No accusations on them, and as a

matter of fact no clear command to appear anywhere.

(No) Money Back...

Finally I was taken back to the desk where I had checked in at and had left my

personal belongings some two days earlier. As I was putting my belongings in my

pockets, I noticed that my wallet was empty of money. I remembered that when I left

home that Tuesday I had nine dollars in cash and well over another dollar in change. I

also distinctly remembered counting out the bills when I was checked into the jail and

they took my belongings. I remembered clearly the arresting officer snickering as he

counted out the bills, "Six, seven, eight, nine dollars," snicker.

So now I said to the chief jailer, "Hey, where's my money? I had ten bucks." He

shouted, "No, you didn't! You had no money when you came in here! " I said, "What

are you talking about? I had ten dollars." Some kind of eye communication went on

between the chief jailer and the man behind the desk. The chief jailer quickly

changed his attitude and asked the man behind the desk if I came in there with the

money. He nodded and said, "Yes," or something, and the chief jailer quickly gave

me a ten dollar bill and marked something on a piece of paper, or made as if he were

marking something on a piece of paper.

Incidentally, I had given them when I checked in either a five dollar bill and four

ones plus well over a dollar in change or nine ones plus well over a dollar in change

(I'm 99% sure it was the former). What happened to those bills and change is an

interesting question in itself. I had previously been given three dimes by the chief

jailer for my phone calls so I didn't bother arguing about the exact change that might

still be due me, especially since it looked like I was actually about to get out of that

hell hole.

That afternoon I was told I could go, and an electronically operated gate was

opened and I took the elevator down and left the jailhouse. A while later I noticed that

several pills of mine had been stolen by the police/jailers. I presume they destroyed

the pills hoping to find that they were illegal. When they found nothing - well, byebye

pills.

Sham...

Legality is a sham at the jailhouse. There are No Smoking signs everywhere, and no

smoking is rigidly enforced - for the prisoners. Bul I noticed a light-skinned colored

cop/jailer smoking whenever he pleased.

Numerous interesting and curious questions arise regarding why I was stopped by

the policeman as "a bank robbery suspect." The first officer who stopped me said,

"There's just been a bank robbery...," etc. Then a few minutes later in the police car

on the way to the police station, an officer told me that they'd just picked up the bank

robber. My question is how could the police have had a photocopy of an artist's

rendition of what the bank robbery suspect looked like in the short time that

presumably had occurred between the time of the bank robbery and the time the first

officer (photocopy of the artist's rendition of the bank robber in hand) had approached

me?

Unasked Questions...

Why wasn't I asked any questions about the bank robbery if that were the real reason

I was stopped? I was never asked where I'd been the last few minutes, never told

what bank had been robbed, how much had been taken, etc. I was not out of breath

from running, had no weapon, only a little cash on me. They never bothered to check

my face against that of the artist's rendition of the bank robber until after I was

already arrested. To say the whole thing stinks and is a frame up and set up is to put it

mildly.

True Events...

The foregoing text was written between about June 5 and June 8, 1981, then later

typed, edited, slightly revised, corrected, etc. However, no attempt has been made to

bring it up to date or to incorporate later information or events, etc. It is a brief

outline, a hastily written sketch, of the horrendous and incredible but absolutely true

events that occurred to me in my life between about 2:00 p.m. Tuesday, May 26,

1981, and about 1:30 p.m. Thursday, May 28, 1981. I do not pretend that this is

literature. However, it is absolutely accurate in all the main points, at least a thousand

times more accurate and truthful than anything you will hear from the other side - i.e.,

the policemen and the jailers and all the rest of the law enforcement authorities.

Perhaps in the future when I have more time to devote to it I will write a revised and

expanded and even more accurate and painstakingly written account of these events.

Sincerely,

Robert D. James (professionally known

as Robert J. Fischer or Bobby Fischer,

The World Chess Champion)