When I arrived in Floriana, Prick-Guard was still there. Being a nasty bastard, he ordered me, with his usual arrogant tone, to follow him. When I asked him why, he didn't answer and repeated his order. I should have refused. At the time, I was not under custody anymore. So he didn't have any authority to give me orders. It was just pure abuse of power, to satisfy his will for domination. But I was tired, and didn't have the strength to resist.
He took me back to the cell where I had spent the night, and told me to take away the bedsheets. Basically, he was asking me to do his job, the lazy bastard. He told me to flush the toilets too! When I told him it wouldn't work, he did it himself, showing me the “trick”. I had spent the night in the stench of shit because they didn't show me that... Useful for next time.
That done, I came back to the hall. They finally gave me back my stuff. But they forgot something: the thick black marker. I had used it to write my slogans on my cardboard. This marker was important to me. It had sentimental value. It was a gift from two homeless people I had met in Genova, while traveling through Italy. They had greatly helped me. It was a gift given by very poor people, in a true act of generosity.
We got out and went to the patrol car. The sergeant-in-charge stayed inside with his colleagues for a little while. So I had a chat with one of his subordinates, who was driving the car. He acknowledged I was right, advising me not to make waves, though, in my self-interest. This man is the only half-decent cop I met through my detention. Anyway, if his boss had asked him, he would have jailed me all the same.
The sergeant came back and got into the car. We went out of the police headquearters (which is a kind of bunker). As soon as that happened, the sergeant told me to go out. I was finally free.
But I was far from home, half-naked, and he knew it. In fact, he was abandoning me, despite the fact that he would pass close to my neighbourhood to go back to his police station. He did that just to humiliate me, forcing me to walk almost for an hour, barechest, before I could fall on my bed and sleep.
Before going, I asked his name. As a final act of cowardice, he refused to answer.
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