your-prisoner-rape-related-experiences

Dit is wat ek ondervind het

Wed, 28 Jan 2009 14:44:22 +0100

Jul 7, 08 - 10:27 AM

Die situasie is basies :

1)w die polisie mense arresteer mense sonder n ordentlike klag of ondersoek en gooi mense in die holding cells sonder n regmatige saak.

2) die tronke in die Port Shepstone polisie stasie is vol mense waar slegs wilde aantuigings - wat nie gegrond of bewys is

3) Valse aantuigings word gemaak deur gevaarlike mense wat vendetta's het /ens of dinge wil probeer bewys sonder enige feite -( behalwe natuurlik vir kriminele waar daadwerklike bewysstukke bestaan of wat op hete daad betrap is).

4) Dion was ge arresteer op niks - Geen bewysse/saak / aanklag en in die oorvol selle summier gegooi SONDER enige toesig

5)Die selle is 150% oorvol met verhoorafwagtendes WAAR GEEN klagstate bestaan nie .

In die selle is:

GEEN beligting nie -

GEEN vars lug nie -

Geeen toilette nie -

Geen basiese higieniese/veilige/gesonde omstandighede nie

Die toestande is soos n donker middel eeuse dungeon -

Na 5 nm is dit pik donker waar hulle die mense toesluit.

As blanke man met 30 - 50 plus swartes vol HIV in n oorvol massa sel word enige blanke man getarget vanwee rassistiese haat -

Die swart polisiemag doen dit moedswillig vanwee rassistiese haatenis totaal bewus van die uiters gevaarlike omstandighede binne die selle.

Dion was so toegesluit met geen klagtstaat nie - net valse voorwensels en geen bewysse nie.

Daar is ook nou die saak waar daai blanke sakeman IN N POLISIEVAN in die Kaap ook deur n groep mans verkrag is JUIS uit rassistiese haat binne in die voertuig met die polisie rondom en sy saak word nog geformuleer.

Die tronke ens is 250% plus oorvol mense waar hul sake nog aangehoor moet word en waar geen klagtes geformuleer is nie.

GEEN daadwerklike bewysstukke bestaan nie - net vermoedens in meeste gevalle waar mens as onskuldige aangehou is onder die haglike toestande.

Die probleem is die mag van die SAPS waar hulle mense in tronke sommer gooi sonder n ordentlike saak/ bewysse of ondersoek.

Ongelukkig nou word blankes mans juis getarget vanwee anti wit sentiment en rassisme.

Die polisie is 100% bewus daarvan en wil basies die wit ou n les leer .

Daar is duisende blanke mans wat so verkrag is maar wat net uit skaamte stil bly of soos arme Dion dit nie verder kon vat nie - (veral met die HIV risiko) waar dit te veel was waar verkragtig van n man in n polisie kantoor totaal ongehoord is! Nou is die saak van verkragting in n polsie voertuig nog erger! Dit met SAPS toesig!

Die probleem is basies met die kriminele regsisteem in die land waar die polisie vers te veel mag het.

Sal alter bel~!

Thanks
mnr. A

Reply from Jim on My Space blog

Wed, 28 Jan 2009 14:40:42 +0100

Aug 19, 2008 6:50 PM Subject: Rape in jail I was a sergeant in one of the worse county prisons in the country. I worked in Holmesburg Prison in Philly and unfortunately, rape and abuse are part of jail life. in my experience and expertise after working in this cess-pool of humanity I will tell you what the main reasons are that rape occurs in prisons. 1st: I've seen administrations change, from conservative administrations that assure that their officers and staff keep constant vigil on what the inmates are doing and where they are at all times. If the rules are to patrol a cell block every 1/2 hour, the block officers should patrol between 5, 15, 20 minutes every hour, staggering the times so the block population cannot possibly know when he is being watched by the officers. To me, if I am working an 8 hour shift, why not make extra patrols, knowing that my presence will be a deterrent to a scum bag that will force another man to have sex without it being consensual. 2nd:When the administration is liberal, and give out rubbers, but want an officer to write-up inmates that are having consensual sex, the administration is sending mixed messages to the inmates. I believe that they are encouraging perverted inmates to have sex whatever way that they want to, even by force. The crux of my message is let the officers and their superiors run the prison and if an inmate is a "Beef Rustler" and is caught, he should be rushed to the concrete by the officers and spend a few weeks in the hospital to ponder what a horendous thing he did to a fellow inmate, then he should be charged with rape not internally by the Wardens, social workers, etc., but in court with new charges. I saw my share of inmates that were raped and most of the times, it occurred in blocks where the guards were lazy pieces of **** that shouldn't even be security officers in a Wall Mart. Before being promoted to sergeant, I can proudly say that no inmate was ever raped on my post because I took the extra steps of knowing what is going on inmy post at all times, even though I had to work a little harder than what the rules required. By the way, my career ended in a 1989 riot when I was shanked in the heart with a honed down bucket handle and my arm was broken because I blocked it before it cracked one of my guards skulls. The liberal didn't like my way of keeping peace through violence when it was necessary, but the inmates respected me, knowing that I wasn't a slouch and I wouldn't allow my guards to be anything but the best. The slouches were assured that they would be fired by me, so my techniques worked along with my work ethics.

What does a kid of seventeen know?

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 15:14:39 +0100

I walked in as my son was being asked the words, those famous words, "Do you have an attorney, or do you wish to have the state appoint an attorney for you, or do you wish to present yourself in this matter?"

Looking at the young man squirm in the dock, it was obvious that he had no clue of what the court expected of him.

"Um, ah... I dunno. I can answer the questions..."

Two days before the end of the December school holidays, this seventeen year old had sprouted a fashionable mop of hair, which was, by now, late afternoon, matted and unruly. His shirt was hanging out, and he had just been woken up from the wall outside the entrance to the court room where he was told to wait since 8.30am.

His misdemeanor was simple. But his inexperience, lethal.

It all started on the weekend. Friday night we had a family braai. Daniel was offered a Smirnoff Storm. He drank this over a three hour period, and took the last sip before he sat off on his scooter to visit with friends in Margate at 8pm.

He noticed the road block, and had ample oppertunity to take a side road, or even to turn around and drive away, as the long line of motorists parked in the line in front of him streched down three or more blocks. But he did not suspect that he had done anything wrong, and patiently awaited his turn to be breathalised.

He was horrified to hear that he was over the limit. The meter read 0.5%

Now, in my limited knowledge of how the system works, I know the limit to be 0.05%, and also that should the breathaliser reading be higher than this, a blood test is usually taken within an hour for a more accurate reading.

You are kept in the police station for at least 4 hours, and then, depending on your condition and behaviour, the police captain could let you go, or decide to prosecute you, in which case bail could be set for your release or you could be let out on your own recognaisance until court room opens.

It appears, fellow South Africans, that this is no longer the case.

Firstly, the breathaliser reading is now totally accepted in the court, and blood tests are an exception, rather than the rule.

This, in my opinion, is rather shaky, as cough medicine could give you a reading as high as 0.7%!

I did ask the Margate police captain who was on duty if a blood test could be taken from my son, as I knew that there was just no way that he was anywhere near intoxicated. The reply was another shocker.

Yes, if he insists on a blood test, it will be taken. But then no bail will be set until he appears in court, as the blood test results can take months.

Secondly, the limit on the breathaliser is read as 0.5% instead of 0.05%. During the festive season, the limit in fact, lessens to 0.25%

I checked on the internet for any collaberation of this new law, but could find none.

Whilst standing in the police station it was interesting to see that there were other people with similar problems.

A mother, who had consumed a glass of wine, had been arrested en route to pick up her children from the movies.

She was denied a phone call to tell her family where she was until her four hours of incarceration had passed.

Another lady attempted to enquire from the desk clerk what procedures to expect in the release of her husband. Before the clerk could reply, the captain interrupted their conversation, telling her, in no uncertain terms, that she must not ask his staff any questions, as they do not make the laws.

At this point, I must explain that this is not a race related matter. Both the ladies mentioned, and the captain, are white. He is just not as attractive as they are!

Anyway, with a very humble attitude, she started to explain that she was not trying to be difficult but she really needed answers.

Once again he interupted her, staing that she is harrassing him and his staff, and should she speak another word, he would have her locked up as well!

Thank goodness for the kindly constable, a white lady, who took pity upon my son. She advised me to find R1000 bail.

It was now well after 10pm. I explained that I only had R500 available in my bank account. At this point the captain turned his attention to me, and promised that if I could not produce the R1000 before 7am, Daniel would definately be locked up with the hardened criminals until Monday morning. In the interim, he would be held in the holding cells.

Frantically I started phoning friends and relatives. Those that were not asleep by now, had switched their celphones off. FInally, by 1am, I managed to wake up a business aquantance, and she obliged.

I ran into the station with the R1000 bail by 1.15am. By now the road block had dissolved, and the officials were handing their guns in, which the captain was recording meticulously. I saw no sign of my son.

By 2.30am, the lady constable once again took pity upon us. She asked the captain if she could fill out a bail slip. He replied no, of course. She asked why not, and he grumped, sighed, and passed her the book. She wrote out the slip, returned Daniel's bike keys and helmet, and reminded him to produce his bail slip in court on Monday morning.

Once again, as I know the procedure, he was to appear in court to plead his innocence, and the magistrate would set a date for his case to be heard. This, usually, allows you a few weeks at least to save up some money for the fine. Which, also, is usually allowed to be paid off in the course of a few months, should you not have the full amount at hand.

On Monday morning I grudgingly gave Daniel a further R1000, just for in case, and he caught a lift to the Ramsgate court where he was to appear.

Being a single mother, living and working 80kms away, I thought nothing of it, smug in my acceptance of letting the law take its course, and depending on the maturity of my young man in the house, to learn from his experience.

Along with about thirty fellow felons of the road block, they were ushered into the public prosecutors office. Fines were issued, and those that could not pay, were given a few months to find the money. Of these people, Daniel was the youngest. He was dealt with last. By now its after 12pm and he is a hungry young man.

He was given a R2000 fine. He offered the R1000 he had on him, and asked if they would accept his bail money for the balance.

The answer, of course, is no. As I had paid the bail, they needed my signature to release the money. A further no to allowing him to pay the difference the next morning. At this point he phoned me, and I assured him I would come and sign the bail slip, and I wanted to tell the public prosecutor (who was a black gentleman) myself that I was on my way. However, this gentleman refused to speak to me on the phone, swore and turned his back on Daniel.

As I do not have my own transport, I arranged for a friend to take me through to the court room. As we arrived, at 2.30pm, I saw Daniel being called and ushered into court.

I walked in as he was asked if he had representation. Realising immediately that he was in serious trouble, I interupted the court and announced myself.

The magistrate, a kindly black lady, allowed me to sugest that we pay the R2000 admission of guilt fine and not waste the time of the court any further.

To my surprise, the public prosecutor announced that the fine is now R3000, as Daniel did not have a drivers licence.

Once again, this ignorance of the youth was lethal. It turned out that the public prosecutor was under the impression that Daniel had been driving a car. In fact, Daniel was driving a scooter. When asked if he had a drivers licence, he said no. He was not aware that he should have said yes, he has a learners licence for a motor bike.

I looked the magistrate in the eyes. "Your honour, it is the first time that Daniel has ever appeared in court. He clearly does not understand what is going on, and cannot possibly defend himself. I have no further money. In fact, I borrowed most of the money we have on us today."

She looked at me ponderously, and then said that it is not up to her what the fine is to be set at, but that the prosecutor will let me know shortly. I was told to wait outside.

At 3pm another lady in uniform approached me to tell me that the magistrate reduced the fine to R2500, and that if I could not produce this money, Daniel would be locked up until such time that I could. She gave me 30 minutes to find the money.

At 3.25pm his aunt drove in with the R500 shortfall.

The uniformed lady sighed "thank goodness" and returned to the public prosecutor, who was still in court. She emerged with the sad news that they do not take money after 3pm, and swinging the lock up room keys in her hands, called Daniel closer.

Fortunately, two men came out from the court room with money in their hands which they were obviously going to pay for their own cases, and calling Daniel, I followed them, found the cashiers room and stood in line. The uniformed lady sighed again, and explained that she was taking Daniel to have his fingerprints taken again.

He was taken to a room, dark as a pit, where over a hundred trial awaiting inmates could be heard. The stench was overwhelming.

I took out the R1500, signed on the back of the bail form, and promtly passed over the R1000 bail money as well. "Why are you paying so much?" I was asked. "The fine is only R2000!" I gave back his aunt her R500.

By 3.40pm his fine was paid, and ten minutes later he emerged from the lions den with a smile so broad and tears in his eyes.

At least one thing he did right. "Daniel, did you pray for help?"

"Yes, mother. Twice!"