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Interrogation Quotes

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Interrogation Quotes

“Though some may see their shortcomings as the greatest evil from the pit of hell, while some throw invectives at God for bringing them into a cruel, problematic world. These shortcomings are transient, the greatest evil does its work and needs no interrogation, their invectives are just a waste of time, and the world is the most sweetest to those with a functional taste buds.”

“...[A]s you read opinions and history in school about 2004... I want you to know... that going to this war was right. No matter what you hear 20 years from now by elite media and historians, things get distorted... Just like Vietnam, I fear OIF (Operation Iraqi Freedom) will be abused in the same way. Just as you hear more about American soldiers in Vietnam raping women and children and shooting unarmed men, today the media is focused about this detainee debacle for two weeks solid, in contrast to American Soldiers being dragged in the streets and dismembered, which was covered for less than 72 hours. I am part of the Special Operations Forces elite... We are harder than anyone at these detention centers and let me tell you, we treat these guys with the utmost professionalism. We do not hit them, we don't humiliate them or cause them any bodily harm for the purpose of entertainment. As a Christian, one assumes great compassion... This is WAR and treated very seriously. People are being killed and it is our job to get information... The humanity in me wants me to warm them, tell them their family is okay, feed them, and even embrace them in a loving way... Most, even in my stature, feel the same way. This is the American Soldier.”

““Echo and I have class together.” Ashley brightened and pressed a hand to her belly. “Really? Which one?” “Calculus.” “Physics,” I added. “And business technology.” “Español.” Had he purposely made his voice all deep and sexy? His hand moved up a fraction of an inch and squeezed my leg, exerting delicious pressure on my inner thigh. I twisted my hair away from my neck to release some of the heat. Noah either choked on his own spit or stifled a laugh. Thankfully, my father missed the show.”

“There are scores of people who have never recovered, or been recovered, from an FSB interrogation. They’re a hard organization to describe because nothing like the FSB exists in the USA. To get even remotely close, you’d have to ask the CIA to birth a seven-headed hydra with the faces of the FBI, DEA, NSA, Immigration, Border Patrol, Coast Guard, and the Navy Seals with a hangover and a grudge.”

“So what is the answer? How can you stand your ground when you are weak and sensitive to pain, when people you love are still alive, when you are unprepared? What do you need to make you stronger than the Interrogator and the whole trap? From the moment you go to prison you must put your cozy past firmly behind you. At the very threshold, you must say to yourself: "My life is over, a little early to be sure, but there's nothing to be done about it. I shall never return to freedom. I am condemned to die—now or a little later. But later on, in truth, it will be even harder, and so the sooner the better. I no longer have any property whatsoever. For me those I love have died, and for them I have died. From today on, my body is useless and alien to me. Only my spirit and my conscience remain precious and important to me." Confronted by such a prisoner, the Interrogation will tremble. Only the man who has renounced everything can win that victory.”

“Without boring you with the specifics, I will tell you that it is an experimental ‘truth-serum’ formula, many times more powerful than sodium pentothal or SP-17; with properties in common with LSD, which is enjoyed recreationally by many in your country’s ‘counter-culture’. I’m afraid this formula will be decidedly unpleasant. SP-17 had the unfortunate side-effect of leaving the subject somewhat sane afterward. This, which we call ‘Veritas X’, will most likely lead to permanent madness…”

“You see, it only takes a tiny bit of pressure. A certain A.G. is called in, and it is well known that he is a nincompoop. And so to start he is instructed: "Write down a list of the people you know who have anti-Soviet attitudes." He is distressed and hesitates: "I'm not sure." He didn't jump up and didn't thump the table: "How dare you!" (Who does in our country? Why deal in fantasies!) "Aha, so you are not sure? Then write a list of people you can guarantee are one hundred percent Soviet people! But you are guaranteeing, you understand? If you provide even one of them with false references, you yourself will go to prison immediately. So why aren't you writing?" "Well, I… can't guarantee." "Aha, you can't? That means you know they are anti-Soviet. So write down immediately the ones you know about!" And so the good and honest rabbit A.G. sweats and fidgets and worries. He has too soft a soul, formed before the Revolution. He has sincerely accepted this pressure which is bearing down on him: Write either that they are Soviet or that they are anti-Soviet. He sees no third way out.”

“[Deputy Superintendent Lim] knew that I was angry. But he also knew that for his career, it was best that I be persuaded to appear on television. I told him to leave me alone but he persisted. I admired his patience, his persistence, his "concern for me." He called me "My Esperanza" (the name of a play performed by the Third Stage). He started to call the woman constable who assisted him, "Soh Lung". He joked about worrying in the night, that because of my refusal to appear on television, he would call my name while hugging his wife! I pitied him. He was pathetic.”

“Furi’s breath caught at the sound of Syn’s voice. He came into the room looking like he was going to hurt Ronowski. Was he the one behind the glass all this time? Asshole. “Let’s go Furious.” Syn stood at the door glaring at Ronowski. “Do you not want your husband contacted?” Ronowski continued ignoring Syn’s glare. Furi turned around at the door. “It doesn’t matter. He’s already been contacted … with divorce papers.” Furi left the room and took long strides through the precinct until he was outside. He knew Syn was behind him, though his steps were light, he could sense him there. Furi was so angry he wanted to round on Syn and punch him in the face. This meant Syn knew everything about him. About his husband, how he made additional money, about every fucking thing. He’d taken away Furi’s control. That just wouldn’t do. ‘Nectar of the Most Forbidden Fruit’ Damnit. Furi was mad, and not just a little bit. He was like a man on a mission. Syn watched him fling the doors open and head around the corner. “Furi, can I talk to you?” Syn asked as calmly as he could. Furi turned down a side street and rounded on him fast, his long hair flying over his left shoulder. He grabbed Syn by the collar of his jacket and threw him hard up against the wall. “Ugh, fuck! Furi relax, I can explain,” Syn said, using a soothing tone. “You knew I was going to be picked up. You stood outside that mirror watching me. Did I entertain you? You think I give a fuck about you judging me because I jerk off on camera for money?” Furi growled in his face. “First: I didn’t know you were going to be picked up tonight. Ronowski is my first officer and he deals with that. He reports to me whenever he feels he has something worth investigating further. Second: he didn’t talk to me about you until after I left you this evening. Third: I didn’t even know you worked at Illustra, but now that I do, read my lips; I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.” He watched Furi’s eyes, saw them land on Syn's mouth. His face just mere inches from his own. He saw Furi’s anger turn to arousal just as his did. Syn brought his hands up slowly, desperately wanting to bury them in Furi’s hair.”

“Vamos falar de hipóteses. Você entende o que é hipótese?” ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ perguntou. “Sim, entendo.” “Vamos supor que você tenha feito o que confessou.” “Mas eu não fiz.” “É só uma suposição.” “Está bem”, disse eu. Apesar de sua alta posição, ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■ era o pior interrogador que já conheci. Quero dizer, do ponto de vista profissional. Ele saltava daqui para ali sem nunca se concentrar numa coisa específica. Se tivesse de fazer uma avaliação, eu diria que o trabalho dele deveria ser qualquer coisa menos interrogar pessoas. “Entre você e ■■■■■■■■■■■ , quem era o responsável?” “Depende. Na mesquita eu era o responsável, fora era ele”, respondi. As perguntas davam por certo que Hannachi e eu éramos membros de uma gangue, mas eu nem sequer conhecia o sr. ■■■■■■■■■■■■ , que dirá ter conspirado com ele como parte de um grupo que nunca existiu. Mas eu não podia dizer uma coisa dessas a ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ; tinha de dizer algo que me fizesse parecer mau. “Você conspirou ou não com essas pessoas, como reconheceu?” “O senhor quer a verdade?” “Sim!” “Não, não conspirei”, eu disse. ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ e ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ tentavam me pregar todo tipo de peça, mas primeiro, eu conhecia todas as peças, e segundo, eu já tinha dito a verdade a eles. Portanto, era inútil me pregar peças. Mas eles me puseram num infame beco sem saída: se mentisse, “Você vai sentir o peso da nossa cólera”; se dissesse a verdade, ia parecer bonzinho, o que os levaria a crer que eu estava ocultando informações porque aos olhos deles EU SOU UM CRIMINOSO e eu ainda não tinha como mudar essa opinião.”

“Sensory deprivation has a devastating psychological impact and can lead to the complete dissolution of the personality accompanied by hallucinations, delusional thinking and general incoherence. It is presently acknowledged as a form of torture; in fact, it is one of a group of “enhanced techniques” that are entirely psychological in nature and unique in that they do not conform to the general public understanding of what torture is.”

“All Nature bristles with the marks of interrogation-among the grass and the petals of flowers, amidst the feathers of birds and the hairs of mammals, on mountain and moorland, in sea and sky-everywhere. It is one of the joys of life to discover those marks of interrogation, these unsolved and half-solved problems and try to answer their questions.”

“A dead language is not only one no longer spoken or written, it is unyielding language content to admire its own paralysis. Like statist language, censored and censoring. Ruthless in its policing duties, it has no desire or purpose other than maintaining the free range of its own narcotic narcissism, its own exclusivity and dominance. However moribund, it is not without effect for it actively thwarts the intellect, stalls conscience, suppresses human potential. Unreceptive to interrogation, it cannot form or tolerate new ideas, shape other thoughts, tell another story, fill baffling silences.”

“There is ...a huge tacit conspiracy between the U.S. government, its agencies and its multinational corporations, on the one hand, and local business and military cliques in the Third World, on the other, to assume complete control of these countries and "develop" them on a joint venture basis. The military leaders of the Third World were carefully nurtured by the U.S. security establishment to serve as the "enforcers" of this joint venture partnership, and they have been duly supplied with machine guns and the latest data on methods of interrogation of subversives.”

“Before Bin Laden did everything but advertise. Yet he had to blow up the Twin Towers just to get the attention of anyone outside the intelligence community. So what did we do? We invaded the wrong country, killed the wrong madman, and too often used the wrong interrogation techniques on the wrong people-all because our leaders lost contact with the truth.”